-NRLF 


51D 


TOR 


(..  ••  y.  ..'•--- 

r^V^,'-'X'-'  -•">  5SSC? 


•  -••*-:  -^    '  >-•-•--..    ••  -«,..-    -''/-"»....".'>'.',"'",,,.    ^"..-.' 


SKETCHES  IN  PRISON  CAMPS 


A   CONTINUATION   OF 


luttjjes  0f  iju 


BY 

CHARLES  C.  NOTT, 

LATE     COLONEL     OF     THE     176TH     NEW    YOEK     V  O  L  B. 

* 

"On her  bier, 
Quiet  lay  the  buried  year ; 
I  sat  down  where  I  could  see, 
Life  without  and  sunshine  free — 
Death  within !" 


THIKD     EDITIO  N  . 


NEW-YORK: 

ANSON   D.    F.    RANDOLPH, 

770  BROADWAY,  CORNER  OF  9TH  ST. 

1865. 


ENTERED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 
CHARLES    C.    NOTT, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


JOHN  J.  RBKD,  PRINTER  AND  STEREOTYPES, 
43  Centre  Street,  N.  Y. 


CLAEKSON"    N".  POTTEE, 

FOB  HIS  GENEROSITY  AND  GREAT  FAITHFULNESS  TO  ME, 
AND  TO  EVERY  SOLDIER  WITH  WHOM  HE  HAS  BEEN  El  ANY  WAY  CONNECTED 

DURING  THE  PAST  WAR, 
THIS    WORK    IS     GRATEFULLY    DEDICATED. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

.  I. — THE  TEANBPOET ».._..  7 

II. — THE  PAY-MASTER 25 

III.— THE  WILD  TEXANS '. 37 

IV. — THE  MAEOH  . . .  ^ 57 

V.— THE  PEAIEIES 71 

YL— CAMP  GEOCE 94 

VIL— TEA 119 

VIII.— CAMP  FOED 132 

IX.— A  DINNER 150 

X.— ESCAPE 171 

XL— EXCHANGE  .  .  .  193 


PKISON   CAMPS. 


THE    TRANSPORT. 

"  THERE  come  the  tug-boats,  Colonel,"  says  an  officer, 
as  I  stand  on  the  deck  of  the  "Alice  Counce,"  waiting  for 
my  regiment.  I  am  a  stranger  to  it,  and  only  assume 
command  to-day.  From  the  East  river  come  the  boats, 
laden  as  many  other  boats  have  been,  with  a  dark  swarm 
of  men,  who  cover  the  deck  and  hang  upon  the  bul- 
warks. 

The  boats  come  alongside  and  throw  their  lines  to  the 
ship,  and  then  rises  a  concord  of  those  sounds  that 
generally  start  with  a  new  regiment. 

"  ATTENTION  !  Officers  and  men  will  remain  on  board 
the  boats  till  ordered  aboard  the  ship.  Captains  of  A 
and  F  will  march  their  companies  aboard  and  conduct 
them  to  their  quarters.  The  bunks  of  each  are  marked 
with  their  Company  letter." 

The  hubbub  ends,  and  the  companies  climb  succes- 
sively aboard,  and  stumble  down  into  the  dark  hold, 


8  PRISON   CAMPS. 

where,  cold  and  clammy  from  recent  scrubbings,  are  cer- 
tain rough  bunks,  each  so  contrived  as  thoroughly  to 
make  four  men  unhappy.  Unhappy  !  for  the  bunks  are 
three  tiers  thick  between  decks,  leaving  no  room 
therein  to  sit  up  and  be  sick — and  four  men  in  one  bed 
ever  did  and  never  will  lie  still.  Those  who  have 
never  been  to  sea  before,  dream  not  of  what  awaits 
them! 

Yet  the  men  surprise  me  with  the  great  good  humor 
in  which  they  seek  out  and  take  possession  of  their  dark 
quarters.  On  one  side,  beginning  at  the  sternmost 
bulkhead,  Co.  "A,"  with  the  aid  of  dingy  ship-lanterns, 
stows  away  the  baggage,  and  next  to  it  is  "  F,"  at  the 
same  work.  This  order  of  the  companies  has  a  reason ; 
for  in  line  of  battle,  they  are  assorted  in  pairs,  called 
"  divisions/'  so  that  each  division  shall  contain  one  of 
the  five  senior  and  one  of  the  five  junior  captains.  In 
camp  too  they  occupy  the  same  places  as  in  line  of 
battle,  and  hence  this  is  the  proper  guide  for  assigning 
quarters  on  ship  board.  Beginning  on  one  side  at  the 
extreme  stern  with  "  A,"  we  run  round  the  ship  until  at 
the  extreme  stern  on  the  opposite  side  we  finish  with 
"  B."  There  is  some  difference  in  the  comfort  of  the 
bunks ;  somebody  must  have  the  worst,  and  it  is  very 
desirable  that  this  somebody  shall  blame  for  it  only  his 
own  bad  luck. 

"  Shall  we  weigh  anchor  soon,  Captain  f 
"  Can't  tell,  sir.     No  wind  now.     Looks  as  though  a 
fog  were  coming  down.    Can't  sail  till  we've  a  wind." 


THE  TEANSPOET.  9 

"  Colonel,"  says  one  of  the  Captains,  "  my  first-lieu- 
tenant lias  not  been  out  of  camp  for  six  weeks.  If  you 
will  let  him  go  ashore,  I  shall  be  much  obliged." 

"  I  cannot,  Captain ;  the  ship  is  ordered  to  sail  im- 
mediately. While  this  is  possible,  no  officer  can  leave." 

"  Colonel,"  says  another,  "  Lieutenant  A.,  of  my  com- 
pany, learnt  last  evening  that  his  mother  is  quite  ill. 
Will  you  approve  this  pass  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Captain,  that  no  officer  can  leave 
the  ship.  We  are  under  sailing  orders — the  pilot  is  on 
board — the  tug  within  hail,  and  we  shall  weigh  anchor 
whenever  the  wind  freshens." 

"  It  is  really  very  hard." 

"Very!"   * 

"  Colonel,"  says  a  third,  "  my  first-sergeant's  wife  is 
very  ill.  I  told  him  that  he  could  go  back  and  see  her, 
and  get  his  things  this  morning.  If  you  will  approve 
this  pass,  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged." 

"  He  must  send  for  his  things.  We  are  under  sailing 
orders.  No  one  can  leave  the  ship." 

"  The  poor  fellow  promised  her  that  he  would  cer- 
tainly be  back  to-day.  It  was  the  only  way  he  could 
make  her  consent  to  his  coming.  He  is  a  most  faithful 
fellow." 

"  Mate,  do  you  think  we  can  possibly  sail  to-night  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  fog  won't  rise  afore  midnight.  Pilot's  gone 
ashore." 

"Then,  Captain,  let  your  sergeant  take  this  dispatch 
to  headquarters,  and  report  on  board  at  daylight." 

i* 


10  PRISON  CAMPS. 

The  fog  grows  denser  and  denser — the  rain  comes 
down ;  such  dreary  refusals  and  disappointments  have 
filled  the  day.  The  cabin  will  not  hold  half  the  officers. 
Nothing  is  settled — all  is  dirt,  disorder  and  confusion. 
Oh,  what  a  wretched,  moody,  miserable  day  ! 

A  week  of  such  days  passes,  but  at  last  the  fresh  west 
wind  blows  keen  and  cold.  A  little  tug  comes  out  from 
among  the  piers,  and  seizing  the  great  vessel,  leads  her 
towards  the  Narrows,  and  the  regiment  at  last  is  moving 
to  New  Orleans. 

"  I  shall  be  glad,"  says  a  young  lieutenant,  flushed 
with  the  thought  of  setting  forth  on  his  first  campaign, 
"I  shall  be  glad  when  we  are  out  of  sight  of  New 
York." 

"  You'll  be  gladder  when  you  come  in  sight  of  it 
again." 

"  Perhaps  I  shall,"  he  says,  with  a  laugh ;  "  but  after 
all  our  working  and  waiting,  it's  delightful  to  be  off  at 
last." 

I  stand  on  the  deck  watching  the  sinking  city  and  the 
lessening  shores,  as  many  have  done  before  me,  while 
gliding  down  the  beautiful  bay,  until  they  grow  dim  in 
the  distance,  and  then  turn  away,  to  think  of  inspec- 
tions, rations,  fires,  and  sea-sickness. 

The  first  night  has  passed  without  incident  or  acci- 
dent, extinguishing  the  excitement  of  our  sailing  and 
leaving  us  to  wake  up  quietly  for  our  first  day  at  sea. 
Not  "  quietly,"  for  twenty  drummer  boys,  without  the 
faintest  sign  of  sea-sickness,  rattled  out  a  reveille  that 


THE  TRANSPORT.  11 

frightened  the  rats  from  their  holes,  and  brought  the 
sleeping  watch  from  the  forecastle,  and  disturbed  every 
sailor  and  sleeper  in  the  ship.  It  left  us  wide  awake, 
and  ready  for  the  routine  and  duties  of  the  day. 

BKEAKFAST  ! — Breakfast  is  no  easy  thing  to  get  in  a 
transport  ship.  All  night  long  two  gangs  of  cooks  have 
been  at  work,  and  there  are  fears  and  whispers  that 
with  all  their  efforts,  the  breakfast  will  run  short.  Very 
aggravating  is  it  to  wait  for  breakfast  in  this  cold  sea 
air,  with  nothing  else  to  think  of,  and  your  thoughts 
quickened  (if  you  are  among  the  last)  by  the  fear  that 
there  is  not  enough  to  go  round.  A  serious  business, 
too,  it  is  to  deal  it  out,  requiring  more  than  an  hour  of 
hungry  moments.  The  companies  form  in  files,  and 
on  each  side  of  the  ship  approach  the  caboose.  A  mug 
and  plate  are  thrust  through  a  hole.  In  a  moment, 
filled  with  a  junk  of  pork,  three  u  hard-tack,"  and  a  pint 
of  pale  coffee,  they  are  thrust  back.  The  hungry  owner 
seizes  them  and  hurries  away  to  some  quiet  spot,  where 
he  can  unclasp  his  knife  and  fork,  and  cool  his  coffee  to 
his  liking.  The  long  files  of  the  unfed,  one  by  one, 
creep  slowly  up  to  the  greasy  dispensary.  The  first 
company  of  the  occasion  ironically  congratulates  the 
last,  the  last  ironically  condoles  with  the  first.  They 
take  turn  about.  Company  A  is  first  at  breakfast  to- 
day ;  second  at  lunch ;  third  at  supper :  to-morrow  ifc 
will  be  fourth;  and  thus  it  will  keep  on  until  at  length 
it  reaches  the  agonizing  state  of  being  last ! 

WATEK  ! — The  water  is  the  next  annoyance '  of  the 

-' 


12  PRISON   CAMPS. 

morning.  The  men  are  brought  tip  on  the  tipper  deck. 
On  the  lower  one  is  a  pump  connected  by  a  hose,  with 
the  water  casks  below.  The  mate,  on  behalf  of  the  ship, 
and  an  officer,  on  behalf  of  the  regiment,  deal  out  the 
w-ater.  Two  men  from  every  squad,  each  with  a  load 
of  canteens  hung  around  his  neck,  come_  forward  and 
fill  them  from  the  tub — a  slow  and  mussy  piece  of 
work. 

INSPECTION. — "  The  water  is  dealt  out,  Colonel,"  says 
the  Officer  of  the  Day.  "  Will  you  inspect  the  quar- 
ters?" 

The  assembly  beats,  and  the  men  again  crowd  the 
upper  deck.  Armed  with  a  lantern,  I  grasp  a  slippery 
ladder,  and  go  down  into  the  dark,  "  between  decks." 
It  is  very  still  and  almost  empty  there,  much  like  a 
gloomy  cave.  The  companies  have  been  divided  into 
four  squads,  and  a  sergeant  and  two  corporals  have 
charge  of  the  quarters  of  each. 

I  begin  with  the  first  and  poke  the  lantern  up  into 
the  upper  tier,  over  into  the  middle  tier,  down  into  the 
lower  tier.  Blankets  out — knapsacks  at  the  head — 
nothing  lying  loose.  No  crumbs  betraying  hard-tack 
smuggled  in  ;  the  deck  scrubbed  clean.  "  Yery  good, 
Sergeant.  Your  quarters  do  you  credit."  The  next,  a 
blanket  not  out — half  a  hard-tack  in  the  upper  tier,  the 
crumbs  scattered  over  the  lower — the  deck  dingy  with 
loathsome  tobacco.  "  Look  at  this,  and  this,  and  this, 
Sergeant.  Yours  are  the  only  dirty  quarters  in  the 
ship." 


THE  TRANSPORT,  13 

"  Don't  you  think  the  quarters  pretty  good  on  the 
whole,  Colonel  ?"  asks  the  Officer  of  the  Day. 

Very  good,  Captain.  If  we  except  that  sergeant's, 
there  is  really  nothing  to  find  fault  with."  And  thus 
ends  the  first  inspection. 

"  If  the  rebels  hadn't  ha'  destroyed  the  light-house," 
remarks  my  friend  the  first  mate,  as  he  looks  with  his 
glass  toward  Hampton  Roads,  "  we  could  ha'  run  right 
straight  in  last  night,  but  seeing  that  the  ship  is  light 
in  ballast,  and  a  good  many  souls  aboard,  why,  it  wasn't 
safe." 

"So  they  destroyed  the  Cape  Henry  light,  did 
they?" 

"  Yes  indeed,  they  did,  and  it  does  seem  to  me  that 
of  all  they've  done  that  ought  to  ha'  set  the  hull  civilized 
world  against  them,  it's  the  worst.  Just  think  now  how 
many  a  fine  vessel  must  ha'  gone  aground  there,  and 
never  be  got  off  again,  just  for  want  of  the  light ;  why, 
it  does  seem  to  me  that  it's  worse  than  a  shooting 
women  and  children  ;  at  any  rate,  it's  just  the  same." 

"  There  comes  the  pilot-boat,  and  she  has  her  signal 
set,"  says  some  one. 

Far  up  the  Chesapeake  the  pilot-boat  is  seen,  a  small 
flag  fluttering  from  her  mast  head.  She  comes  straight 
as  an  arrow,  like  a  greyhound  rushing  down  upon  us  in 
his  play.  How  beautifully  she  bounds  along,  looking  as 
she  mounts  the  waves  as  if  she  would  leap  from  .the 
water.  The  yards  are  backed  and  the  ship  stops  anc^ 
waits  for  the  little  craft.  The  pilot-boat  circles  round 


14:  PRISON   CAMPS. 

her,  and  coming  into  the  wind,  seems  to  settle  down  like 
a  dog  resting  from  his  sport.  A  little  cockle  shell  of  a 
boat  puts  off,  pulled  by  two  black  oarsmen,  who  buffet 
and  dodge  the  waves,  and  make  their  way  slowly  against 
the  wind  toward  the  ship.  There  is  much  curiosity  to 
see  this  Virginian  pilot,  and  all  hands  crowd  forward  as 
he  comes  up  the  side.  The  Captain  alone  has  not 
moved  to  meet  him.  He  stands  dignifiedly  on  the  poop 
deck,  his  glass  beneath  his  arm.  The  pilot  does  not  ask 
for  him,  or  paus'e  or  look  around ;  he  evidently  knows 
the  very  spot  on  which  the  Captain  stands.  He  bows 
to  the  crowd  around  him,  pushes  his  way  through,  and 
mounts  to  the  deck.  He  walks  up  to  the  Captain,  and 
they  shake  hands.  The  Captain  hands  him  his  glass : 
the  pilot  takes  it :  it  is  the  emblem  of  authority,  and  the 
Captain  no  longer  commands  the  ship. 

The  pilot  raises,,  the  glass  and  looks  sharply  in  one 
direction ;  he  takes  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  the  deck, 
and  looks  attentively  in  another.  I  am  convinced  that 
he  knows  as  well  where  we  are  as  I  should,  were  I  stand- 
ing on  the  steps  of  the  City  Hall.  All  this  looking  is 
evidently  done  to  impress  beholders  with  the  difficulty 
of  being  a  pilot.  "  How  does  she  head  ?"  says  the  pilot. 
"  Due  west,"  says  the  man  at  the  wheel.  "  Keep  her 
west  by  sou'  half  sou',"  says  the  pilot.  "  "Wes'  by  sou' 
half  sou',"  responds  the  man  at  the  wheel.  "  Set  your 
jib,  sir,"  says  the  pilot  to  the  Capt.  "  Set  the  jib, 
Jfr.  Small,"  says  the  Captain  to  the  first  mate.  "  Set 
the  jib,  Mr.  Green,"  says  the  first  mate  to  the  second 


THE  TRANSPORT.  15 

mate.  "  All  hands  man  the  jib  halyards,"  says  the 
second  mate.  "  Aye,  aye,  sir,"  respond  the  sailors,  and 
the  soldiers  look  quite  sober  at  finding  themselves  all  of 
a  sudden  in  so  difficult  and  maybe  dangerous  a  channel. 
Meanwhile  the  black  oarsmen  pull  back  to  where  the 
pilot-boat  still  lies  at  rest.  The  touch  of  the  cockle  shell 
upon  her  side  startles  her  again  into  life.  She  shakes 
her  white  wings,  and  turning,  bounds  off  toward  another 
ship,  whose  sails  are  slowly  rising  from  the  waves  far 
off  toward  the  east. 

"What  we  have  come  to  Fortress  Monroe  for  no  one 
can  tell.  In  spite  of  a  decisive  order  to  sail  forthwith 
for  New  Orleans,  the  wind  refuses  to  blow.  Another 
weary  week  of  calm  and  fog  intervenes.  The  Captain 
laments  and  growls,  and  says  if  we  had  kept  on  with 
that  breeze,  we  could  have  been  at  the  Hole-in-the-wall, 
and  maybe  at  Abaco-light ;  but  now  there's  no  telling 
when  the  wind  will  set  in  from  the  west — he's  known  it 
set  this  way  at  this  season  for  three  weeks.  The  officers 
and  men  repeat  the  growls  and  lamentations,  and  fail 
not  to  ask  me  five  hundred  times  a  day  what  we  have 
come  to  Fortress  Monroe  for. 

The  week  of  waiting  ends,  and  a  westerly  wind  assures 
us  that  we  may  start.  "  "We  must  have  a  tug  to  tow  us 
down,"*  says  the  Captain.  "  And  we  must  have  the 
water-boat  along  side,"  says  the  mate.  A  boat  load  of 
officers  and  soldiers  go  ashore  to  make  their  last  pur- 
chases. I  wait  on  the  dock  and  watch  the  water-boat  as 
it  puts  off,  and  listen  to  the  "  yo  he  yo  "  on  the  "  Alice 


16  PKISON   CAMPS. 

Counce "  and  "  Emily  Sturges,"  which  tells  me  that 
tlieir  anchors  are  coming  up. 

The  tug  took  us  down — the  pilot  left  us  much  as 
before,  an.d  we  are  now  out  at  sea.  The  "  Emily  "  led 
us  by  half  an  hour,  and  all  day  long  was  in  sight,  sail- 
ing closer  to  the  wind  and  standing  closer  on  the  coast. 
As  the  evening  closed  in,  we  cast  many  jealous  glances 
toward  her,  and  asked  each  other  which  ship  would  be 
ahead  in  the  morning. 

The  second  day  was  a  gloomy,  wintry  day,  with  a 
rising  wind,  and  constantly  increasing  sea ;  and  the 
second  night  out  I  felt  the  motion  grow  and  grow,  but 
thought  it  rather  pleasant,  and  had  no  fears  of  evil  con- 
sequences. I  rose  with  the  reveille,  which  seemed 
fainter  than  usual,  steadied  myself  out  of  the  cabin,  and 
still  knew  no  fear.  I  reached  the  deck  and  found  that 
but  four  drummer  boys  rub-a-dubbed,  and  but  few  men 
had  come  up  from  below.  I  mounted  to  the  poop  deck, 
and  there  I  found  three  lieutenants.  There  was  some- 
thing unusual  about  them.  Two  sat  very  still  braced 
against  a  spar,  while  the  third  staggered  violently  up 
and  down  with  a  pale,  in  fact  a  ghastly  face,  and  kept 
saying  in  a  jolly  manner  to  himself,  "How  are  you, 
ship  ?  how  are  you,  o-oh-shun  ?" 

"  This  is  very  strange,"  thought  I.  "  But  perhaps 
they're  ill.  I'll  ask  them." 

"  Gentlemen,  are  you  sick — sea- sick  ?" 

"  Sick  ?  oh  no  !" 

Nobody  was  sick,  so  I  turned  and  looked  down  on  the 


THE  TRANSPORT.  17 

main  deck.  The  reveille  had  ended,  yet  the  number  on 
deck  had  not  increased.  A  sergeant  with  five  or  six 
men  in  line  was  calling  his  roll  in  a  loud  voice,  at  which 
he  and  half  his  men  repeatedly  laughed,  as  though 
absence  from  roll-call  were  a  capital  joke. 

It  is  usual  for  an  officer  from  each  company  to  come 
up  to  me  immediately  after  the  morning  roll-call,  and 
report  the  state  of  his  company,  "  all  present  or  ac- 
counted for,"  or  so  many  present  and  so  many  absent 
and  not  accounted  for.  I  am  somewhat  strict  about 
it,  yet  on  this  morning  only  one  or  two  reported.  I 
thought  this  negligence  strange — unaccountable — yet 
for  some  reason  or  other,  I  did  not  go  down  and  ascer- 
tain the  cause  of  it.  I  turned  toward  the  east.  The^ 
sun  was  near  his  rising,  and  the  crimson  light  filled  the 
sky  and  tinged  the  white  foam  of  the  tossing  waves.  It 
was  a  splendid  sight,  and  brought  to  mind  one  of  the 
finest  sea  pieces  of  the  Dusseldorf.  I  stood  watching 
the  wide  expanse  of  heaving  billows — the  cloud-spotted 
sky  under-lit  with  rays  of  the  coming  sun — the  unnum- 
bered waves  breaking  in  long  rolls  of  foam,  silvered  and 
gilded  by  the  glowing  east.  I  was  lost  in  admiration, 
when  I  suddenly  fe]t — sick !  I  made  brave  attempts  to 
keep  myself  up — to  weather  it  out — to  stay  on  my 
legs — to  stay  on  deck — to  do  something — to  do  any- 
thing. In  vain ! 

That  day  the  wind  increased  and  blew  a  gale. 
Through  the  long  hours  of  the  afternoon  the  vessel 
plunged  and  tossed.  Furniture  broke  loose  and  slid 


18  PRISON  CAMPS. 

backward  and  forward  across  the  cabin.  The  steward 
looked  in,  seized  the  vagrant  pieces,  and  lashed  them 
fast.  Stragglers  steadied  themselves  from  door  to  table 
and  from  table  to  sofa,  to  say  that  all  the  others  were 
down — that  they  began  to  feel  a  little  qualmish,  and 
that  affairs  were  growing  serious.  Toward  midnight 
there  was  a  tremendous  shock — the  ship  staggered  and 
stood  still,  as  though  she  had  struck  upon  a  rock ;  in  an 
instant  more  the  door  of  the  forward  cabin  was  burst 
open  with  a  crash,  and  in  another  the  water  broke 
through  the  sky-light  over  my  head,  and  poured,  a  tor- 
rent, on  the  cabin  floor.  To  the  men  between  decks 
it  seemed  a  shipwreck.  Yet  there  were  not  wanting 
a  few  heartless  wretches,  who,  neither  sea-sick  nor 
frightened,  made  sport  of  all  the  others.  "  The  ship's 
struck  a  breaker,"  roared  one  of  these  from  his  bunk. 
"  All  frightened  men  roll  out  and  put  on  their  boots  to 
sink  in."  "  Struck,"  "  breakers,"  "  sinking,"  sounded 
around,  and  several  hundred  men  rolled  out  in  the  dark- 
ness, and  frantically  tried  to  put  on  their  boots.  "With 
the  next  roll,  away  all  hands  went.  Some  caught  at  the 
bunks — some  clutched  each  other — the  penitent  prayed — 
the  wicked  swore — the  frightened  blubbered — the  sick 
and  philosophical  lay  still.  In  the  midst  of  the  sliding, 
the  scramble  and  the  din,  a  voice  rose  from  another 
bunk,  "  Captains  " — it  thundered  in  the  style  of  a  Colo- 
nel on  drill — "  rectify  the  alignment."  And  the  jokers 
added  to  the  din  their  loud  laughs  of  derision. 

A  little  later  the  mate  came  in — a  large,  stalwart 


THE  TRANSPORT.  19 

sailor,  seeming  a  giant  in  his  oilskins  and  sou'wester. 
He  carefully  closed  the  door,  stepped  lightly  across  the 
cabin  floor,  ceremoniously  removed  his  hat,  and  looking 
into  the  darkness  of  the  captain's  state-room,  said  in  the 
most  apologetic  of  tones,  "  Captain  Singer,  I'm  really 
afraid  the  mast  will  go,  if  we  don't  ease  her  a  point.  It 
works  very  bad,  and  the  wind's  rising." 
The  Captain  considered  slowly  and  said,  "  Ease  her." 
The  mate  said  politely,  "  Yes,  sir,"  and  then  backed 
across  the  cabin  lightly  on  tip  toe,  hat  in  hand,  opened 
the  door  slowly  and  noiselessly,  and  then,  without  re- 
placing his  hat,  slipped  out  into  the  storm. 

The  long  night  wore  away  and  was  followed  by  a 
longer  day.  The  ship  tossed  and  plunged,  rising  as 
though  she  were  mounting  from  the  water  to  the  sky, 
and  then  sinking  as  though  she  would  never  stop.  At 
last  the  gaie  blew  itself  out,  and  then  came  a  calm, 
when  the  ship  lay  like  a  log  on  the  water,  rolling  cease- 
lessly from  side  to  side,  and  creaked  and  groaned  with 
every  toss  and  roll.  But  now  there  is  a  cry  of  land,  and 
the  sick  drag  themselves  to  the  deck  and  look  toward  a 
rocky  island  of  the  Bahama  group,  which  is  the  "  land." 
How  beautiful  it  seems,  hung  there  on  the  horizon 
between  the  shifting  clouds  and  tossing  sea !  The  breeze 
is  fair,  the  sea  not  rough,  and  we  soon  draw  nearer  to 
this  land.  On  the  farther  end  rises  the  snowy  tower  of 
the  light-house,  and  beside  it  stands  the  house  of  the 
keeper.  No  other  house,  nor  field,  nor  tree,  nor  blade 
of  grass  adorns  this  huge  bare  rock.  The  waves  have 


ZU  PRISON   CAMPS. 

worn  grooves  on  the  steep  sides,  and  up  these  the  water 
dashes,  and  runs  down  in  white  moving  columns. 
Abreast  of  us  is  a  strange  opening  in  the  wall-like 
rock,  which  has  given  to  the  island  its  name  of  "  Hole- 
in-the-wall."  The  spy-glasses  disclose  a  man,  a  woman, 
and  some  children,  looking  toward  the  ship.  Once  in 
three  months  the  supply  ship  will  visit  them,  bringing 
their  food,  their  clothing,  their  water  and  the  oil :  once 
or  twice  a  year,  when  the  sea  is  calm  and  the  wind  has 
fallen,  che  keeper  may  row  out  to  some  ship  to  beg  for 
newspapers ;  more  often  they  may  gaze,  as  they  are 
gazing  now,  at  passing  vessels ;  and  thus,  with  such 
rare  intervals,  they  pass  their  lonely  life,  cut  off  and 
isolated  from  all  mankind. 

The  warm  temperature  and  rich  blue  color  of  the 
water  tell  us  that  we  are  in  the  Gulf  Stream.  As  I  lie 
upon  the  deck  looking  upon  the  mysterious  current,  a 
slender  .bird,  eight  or  ten  inches  long,  shining  like  silver, 
flits  through  the  air.  "  Did  you  see  that  bird  ?"  asks 
more  than  one  voice.  "  "Was  it  a  bird  ?"  "  Yes,  it  flew 
like  one."  "  No,  it  came  out  of  the  water  and  went 
back  there." 

"It's  a  flying-fish,  gentlemen,"  says  the  mate;  "you'll 
see  plenty  of  them  soon." 

A  more  beautiful,  fairy-like  sight  than  these  flying-fish 
present,  I  have  seldom  seen.  A  delicate  creature, 
bright  and  silvery,  and  often  beautifully  tinged  with 
blue,  emerges  from  the  water,  and  soars  just  above  the 
waves  in  a  long,  graceful,  bird-like  flight,  until  striking 


THE  TRANSPORT.  21 

against  the  summit  of  some  wave  that  lifts  it's  white 'cap 
higher  than  the  rest,  it  disappears. 

This  is  called  a  pleasant  voyage  from  Hole-in-the- 
wall.  "We  watch  the  flying-fish,  catch  Portuguese 
men-of-war,  and  bathe  in  the  warm  water  of  the  stream, 
until  there  appears  before  us  what  some  at  first  thought 
a  mud  bank,  but  which  now  proves  to  be  another 
ocean  of  muddy  water. 

"  It  is  the  Mississippi,"  says  the  Captain.  "  The  river 
must  be  up,  for  we're  a  hundred  miles  good  from  the 
Sou' west  Pass.  There'll  be  trouble  in  crossing  the  bar ; 
when  the  river's  up  the  water's  down." 

As  we  draw  nearer,  the  contrast  between  the  two 
oceans  grows  more  plain.  The  line  is  as  distinct  as  that 
between  land  and  water  on  a  map.  Now  the  bow  of 
the  vessel  reaches  it — now  the  line  is  a  midship — now  I 
look  down  upon  it,  and  now  the  ship  floats  wholly  in  the 
water  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  muddy  sea  has  raised  a  ferment  of  excitement, 
and  many,  who  have  all  faith  in  the  ship's  reckoning, 
still  look  forward  as  though  they  could  look  through  the 
hundred  miles  before  us,  and  see  the  wished-for  land. 
Night  closes,  however,  leaving  us  surrounded  by  the 
same  muddy  waves ;  but  we  turn  in,  with  the  strong 
assurance  that  to-morrow  we  shall  make  the  Pass. 

Land  !  But  hidden  under  low  fogs,  that,  I  am  told, 
brood  over  this  delta  of  the  Mississippi.  From  the  cross- 
trees  can  be  seen  one  or  two  steam-tugs,  vessels  at 
anchor,  and  distant  salt  marshes ;  but  from  the  deck  we 


22  PEISON   CAMPS. 

peer  about  in  all  directions,  and  see  nothing  in  the  fog. 
A  pilot  moves  the  ship  up  to  her  anchorage.  We  are  to 
wait  perhaps  only  the  moving  of  the  tugs — perhaps  the 
falling  of  the  river ;  the  river  is  up,  and  as  was  foretold 
by  the  Captain,  the  water  is  down. 

The  explanation  of  this  paradox  is  simple.  The  water 
on  the  bar  is  ocean  water,  though  discolored  by  the 
river.  Its  height  is  always  a  tidal  height,  that  is,  it 
rises  with  the  tide,  not  with  the  river.  The  freshets, 
while  they  do  not  add  to  the  height  of  the  water, 
nevertheless  bring  down  large  quantities  of  mud, 
which  settles  on  the  bar,  and  thus  builds  up  the 
bottom  without  raising  the  surface  of  the  water.  The 
pilots  measure  from  the  bottom,  and  finding  it  nearer 
the  surface  than  it  was,  say  that  the  water  has  fallen, 
when  in  fact  it  is  the  bottom  that  has  risen.  Then 
come  the  tides  and  wash  away  the  loose  mud  upon  the 
bar,  and  thus  the  water  deepens  while  the  river  falls. 

"We  are  again  at  anchor ;  a  tug  is  heard  in  the  fog, 
and  all  turn  anxiously  toward  it.  The  Captain  of  the 
tug  hails  the  Captain  of  the  ship,  and  demands  what 
water  she  draws. 

"Sixteen  feet  and  a  half,"  is  the  answer.  "Will 
that  do  ?" 

The  Captain  of  the  tug  says  it  is  doubtful — they  are 
going  down  to  tug  another  ship  that  draws  fifteen  and  a 
half,  and  if  they  get  her  over,  they  will  tug  us  at  tho 
next  flood  tide. 

That  ship  is  the  transport  "  William  Woodbury."    She 


THE  TRANSPORT.  23 

comes  down  gallantly,  the  soldiers  crowding  her  bul- 
warks, two  powerful  tugs  puffing  at  her  sides,  and  every 
sail  set.  We  watch  her  with  anxiety.  She  passes  a 
buoy  that  we  think  marks  the  bar,  and  all  seems  well. 
The  mate  says  he  "  don't  know  but  akind  of  believes 
she's  over."  As  he  speaks,  she  swings  round,  stops,  and 
sticks  fast.  The  steam-tugs  pull  her  backward  and  for- 
ward and  sidewise,  and  at  last  over  the  bar;  she  disap- 
pears in  the  fog  beyond,  and  we  await  with  fresh 
anxiety  the  flood-tide  of  the  afternoon. 

These  tugs  have  one  strange  appendage  in  the  form 
of  a  ladder  as  high  as  the  smoke-pipe ;  on  the  top  of 
this  is  a  chair,  and  in  this  chair  is  a  man.  It  is  the  pilot 
who  thus  looks  over  the  low  fogs  of  the  Pass.  From 
this  high  place  we  hear  the  voice  of  one,  toward  evening, 
and  soon  two  tugs  come  down  to  try  their  strength  in 
dragging  our  ship  through  two  feet  of  mud.  The 
heaviest  hawser  is  out  on  deck  and  an  end  run  over 
either  side  to  the  stubborn  little  tug  that  lies  there.  The 
anchor  is  tripped,  a  sail  or  two  set,  and  with  good  head- 
way, we  approach  the  bar.  Suddenly  every  one  who  is 
on  his  legs  takes  an  unexpected  step  forward — the  haw- 
ser parts — the  tugs  break  loose — and  we  are  hard 
aground.  But  the  tugs  do  not  give  it  up.  They  re- 
attach  themselves  and  drag  us,  after  many  efforts,  out 
of  the  mud  and  back  to  where  we  started. 

We  approach  the  bar  again  cautiously;  but  again  we 
feel  the  vessel  grounding,  and  again  she  stands  still. 
The  tugs  tug  away  as  though  striving  to  drag  us  through 


24  PRISON   CAMPS. 

by  main  strength,  and  many  declare  that  we  are  moving 
slowly.  A  neighboring  buoy,  however,  stays  close 
beside  us,  and  after  half  an  hour's  hard  work,  shows 
that  we  have  not  moved  a  foot.  Still  the  tugs  tug  as 
obstinately  as  ever.  They  drag  us  back  and  try  afresh — 
now  to  the  right — now  to  the  left — panting,  puffing  and 
blowing.  The  pilots  sit  enveloped  in  clouds  of  black 
coal  smoke,  and  shout,  and  scream.  At  last,  with  the 
last  rays  of  daylight,  and  the  last  swelling  of  the  tide, 
and  the  last  strands  of  the  hawser,  and  at  the  moment 
when  all  efforts  must  cease,  we  are  dragged  across  the 
bar,  and  enter  the  Mississippi. 


THE   PAY-MASTER.  25 


n. 

THE    PAY-MASTER. 

WESTWARD  from  !New  Orleans  stretches  the  Opelousas 
railroad,  and  along  this  road  we  are  now  doing  guard 
duty.  Guarding  a  railroad  is  the  most  unwelcome  task 
that  can  be  thrust  on  the  Colonel  of  a  new  regiment — 
scattering  the  companies,  demoralizing  the  men,  destroy- 
ing the  regiment,  and  therefore  a  Colonel,  under  such 
circumstances,  has  a  right  to  be  a  little  discontented,  and 
very  cross. 

I  am  a  little  discontented,  and  have  wished  a  hundred 
times  that  I  were  back,  writing  on  the  eunny  hill-side  of 
Camp  Lowe,  enduring  all  the  hardships  of  Tennessee. 
From  an  unsoldierly  point  of  view,  there  is  nothing  to 
complain  of  here.  For  the  leaky  tent,  the  muddy  floor, 
the  pork  and  "  hard-tack "  of  the  "West,  my  large  new 
tent  has  a  double-fly  and  plank  floor ;  and  it  is  filled 
with  tables,  chairs,  and  other  luxuries.  Up  the  neigh- 
boring bayou  of  La  Fourche,  too,  come  miniature  canal- 
boats,  tugged  along  by  little  Creole  ponies,  and  laden 
with  fish  and  oysters,  which  the  swarthy  French  fisher- 
men catch  in  the  not  distant  Gulf.  The  surrounding 
woods  are  filled  with  game  that  finds  its  way  constantly 
to  camp,  and  from  every  one  of  the  large  plantations 

2 


20  PEISCXtf   CAMPS. 

that  abound  here,  are  brought  vegetables,  eggs  and 
poultry.  •  Yet  I  do  not  relish  this  ease  and  indolence — 
the  rough  cavalry  service  suits  me  better,  and  I  wish  a 
hundred  times  a  day  that  I  were  back  in  Tennessee. 

It  is  the  spring-time  of  the  year,  yet  there  is  but  little 
cf  the  reality  of  spring  to  us.  The  grass  has  long  been 
green,  the  flowrers  are  plentiful,  the  sun  is  hot  and  burn- 
ing, but  the  leaves  come  leisurely  along,  and  for  a  fort- 
night have  only  moved.  These  flowers,  too,  have 
generally  no  fragrance,  though  now  and  then  there  is 
one  that  overpowers  us  with  its  sweet,  sickening  odor, 
and  the  birds  that  fill  the  trees  are  songless,  save  the 
"  merry  mocking-bird,"  who,  like  the  perfume  giving 
flowers,  has  more  than  his  share  of  noise  and  song. 
There  is,  therefore,  none  of  the  glad  bursting  forth  that 
makes  so  brief  and  bgautiful  our  northern  spring. 

This  is  a  muster-day  in  the  army,  and  it  is  the  fore- 
runner of  the  Pay-Master.  I  have  been  busy  since  day- 
break calling  the  rolls  of  the  companies  along  the  rail- 
road, and  I  have  now  to  ride  twelve  miles  and  muster 
one  that  fe  doing  Provost  guard  duty  in  the  village  of 
Houma.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  ride  to  Houma ;  the  road 
runs  along  a  bayou,  as  straight  and  stagnant  as  a  canal. 
Occasionally  there  comes  a  boat,  freighted  with  a  dozen 
barrels  of  molasses  or  a  few  hogsheads  of  sugar,  furrow- 
ing its  way  through  the  green  scum  that  covers  the 
water,  and  breaking  down  the  rank-growing  weeds  that 
choke  the  channel.  The  vagabond-looking  ponies  that 
drag  it  along,  travel  on  the  "levee,"  which  has  the 


THE  PAY-MASTER.  27 

appearance  of  a  tow-path,  and  makes  the  bayou  look 
more  than  ever  like  a  canal.  This  bay  on  is  a  hideous 
frog-pond,  long  drawn  out,  filled  with  black,  slimy  mud, 
and  teeming  with  hideous  reptiles.  My  horse  starts  as 
I  ride  beside  it,  and  snuffs  the  tainted  air  nervously,  for 
two  turkey-buzzards  fly  up  from  the  huge  carcass  of  an 
alligator,  and  alight  close  beside  me  on  the  fence.  Two 
more  remain  on  the  alligator,  gorged  so  that  they  can- 
not rise.  Their  rough,  dirty  feathers  remind  one  of  the 
uncombed  locks  of  a  city  scavenger.  ~No  one  ever  shoots 
them,  but  draws  back  and  says,  with  unconcealed  dis- 
gust, "  What  a  foul  bird  that  is." 

Yet  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  spreading  back  to 
the  poisonous  swamps  in  the  rear,  lie  some  of  the  rich 
plantations  of  Louisiana.  There  are  the  sugar-houses, 
with  their  heavy  brick  chimneys,  as  large  and  clumsy  as 
those  of  a  foundry ;  and  near  by  stand  the  planter's 
house,  the  overseer's  house,  the  engineer's  house,  and  a 
little  village  of  contraband  cabins.  The  vast  fields  are 
cut  up  into  square  blocks  by  ditches,  sometimes  ten  feet 
deep,  reminding  one  of  the  graded  lots  in  the  outskirts 
of  a  city.  On  one  side  of  each  range  of  these  blocks  is  a 
raised  plantation  road,  which  crosses  the  ditches  on  sub- 
stantial bridges,  and  runs,  perhaps  for  miles,  arrow-like, 
as  a  railroad.  It  is  probable  that  the  plantation  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  levee,  to  keep  the  water  out.  The  large 
ditches  then  empty  into  a  canal,  and  at  the  end  of  this 
canal  will  be  found  a  "  pumping  machine,"  driven  by  a 
steam  engine,  which  pumps  the  plantation  dry  and  keeps 


28  PRISON   CAMPS. 

it  above  water.  Such  wcalthful  agriculture  we  have 
nowhere  in  the  North. 

The  broad,  dull  thoroughfare  on  which  I  ride  is  an 
unpleasant  contrast  to  the  shaded  bridle-roads  of  Ten- 
nessee. Yet  it  furnishes  our  only  ride,  and  for  twelve 
miles  there  is  but  one  turn-off,  or  intersecting  road,  and 
not  one  lull  or  hollow.  So  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  in 
all  directions — so  far  as  one  can  ride  on  any  road  he  may 
choose  to  take,  is  one  weary,  continuing,  unbroken  flat- 
ness. I  feel  a  constant  longing  to  mount  a  hill,  and 
often  have  to  repress  an  impulse  to  climb  a  tree,  where 
I  can  look  around  and  breathe  a  little  freer  air. 

Houma  looks  somewhat  like  a  deserted  village.  The 
shops  are  shut,  many  of  the  houses  empty,  and  fhe 
scowling  people  wear  an  idle,  listless  air.  There  is  no 
love  lost  between  them  and  the  troops.  Some  months  ago 
a  few  sick  soldiers  of  the  twenty-first  Indiana  were  mas- 
sacred not  far  from  the  village,  and  it  was  done  by  some 
of  the  most  "  respectable"  planters.  I  believe  all  of  the 
guilty  parties  escaped  to  the  enemy's  lines,  except  one, 
and  he,  poor  wretch,  lived  for  months  in  the  gloomy 
swamps  near  us,  a  frightened  maniac.  His  body  was 
lately  found,  showing  that  he  had  lain  down,  worn  out 
and  sick,  and  died  alone  in  the  dreary  solitude. 

In  one  of  these  deserted  houses  I  find  my  officers 
established,  and  after  finishing  the  muster  of  their  com- 
pany, I  spend  with  them  a  pleasant  evening  and  quiet 
night.  Another  dull  and  solitary  ride  carries  me  back 
to  my  headquarters,  to  await  the  wished-for  coming  of 


THE   PAY-MA8TEE.  29 

• 

the  Pay-Master.  A  regiment  which  has  never  been 
paid  looks  eagerly  for  that  admired  and  much  respected 
functionary.  It  understands  not  why  there  should  be 
delays,  and  coins  a  rumor  at  least  once  a  day,  that  he  is 
on  his  way  to  camp.  After  many  disappointments,  one 
of  these  rumors  assumes  a  substantial  shape.  A  special 
train  comes  rushing  up  the  railroad,  consisting  of  an 
engine  and  a  single  car.  The  train  shrieks  that  it  will 
stop  and  does  so :  it  bears  only  two  passengers,  and  a 
heavy,  mysterious,  iron-bound  box.  They  are  the  Pay- 
Master,  his  clerk,  and  his  money  chest. 

The  Pay-Master  is  smiling,  and  happy  as  a  man  who 
travels  with  a  trunk  full  of  smiles  should  be.  He  walks 
through  the  excited  throng  to  my  tent,  and  the  mys- 
terious box  is  borne  by  two  soldiers  in  a  reverent  man- 
ner behind  him.  lie  takes  it  from  them  at  the  tent  in  a 
careless  sort  of  way,  and  pulls  and  tumbles  it  about  as 
if  it  were  a  common  piece  of  vulgar  wood — he  does  not 
even  glance  at  it  as  he  twists  and  turns  the  mysterious 
lock.  From  its  depths  he  brings  out  our  pay-rolls,  and 
says  in  a  complimentary  manner  that  they  are  correct — 
that  indeed  he  never  paid  a  new  regiment  where  they 
were  more  correct.  He  shakes  his  head  despondingly, 
and  adds  that  there  are  some  regiments  in  this  depart- 
ment that  have  never  been  paid — that  have  never  got 
their  rolls  right,  and  he  fears  never  will.  Our  men  are 
immensely  relieved  as  these  facts  are  whispered  around, 
and'  acquire  fresh  confidence  in  their  officers, — perhaps 
rather  more  than  they  ever  had  before. 


30  PRISON  CAMPS. 

The  rolls  are  sent  back  to  the  different  companies,  and 
the  men  assemble  round  each  Captain's  tent  and  sign 
them.  The  Pay-Master  fortifies  himself  against  the 
coming  excitement  with  a  little  luncheon.  Meanwhile 
a  table  has  been  placed  at  the  opening  of  a  tent,  within 
which  are  the  mysterious  box  and  clerk. 

"  Now,  Colonel,"  says  the  Pay-Master,  "  if  you  will 
be  so  good  as  to  give  the  necessary  orders,  we  will 
begin." 

The  Pay-Master  takes  his  place  behind  the  table 
which  bars  the  entrance  to  the  tent  and  box ;  the 
first  company  falls  in  "  by  one  rank,"  faces  "without 
doubling,"  and  in  single  file  approaches  the  Pay-Master. 
The  Pay-Master  takes  a  pay-roll  and  calls  a  name ;  the 
clerk  takes  its  "duplicate"  and  checks  the  name;  the 
owner  steps  forward  and  answers  to  the  name.  The 
Pay-Master  seizes  a  bundle  of  the  precious  paper  and 
tears  off  the  wrapper.  The  notes  dance  through  his  fly- 
ing fingers,  and  flutter  down  before  the  owner  of  the  first 
name.  The  Pay-Master  carelessly  seizes  them,  says 
"  sixty-three  dollars,  forty-five  cents,"  and  tosses  them 
toward  the  owner,  as  though  he  wishes  to  be  rid  of  the 
vulgar  trash.  The  owner,  much  discomposed,  carefully 
picks  them  up  and  hurriedly  retires  to  the  nearest 
bench,  whereon  he  seats  himself,  and  slowly  counts  and 
re-counts  the  notes,  at  least  five  times.  It  is  labor  in 
vain  ;  he  cannot  make  them  a  dollar  more,  or  a  dime 
less  than  did  the  Pay-Master.  Those  practised  hands, 
though  they  count  the  money  only  once,  and  move 


THE   PAY-MASTER.  31 

with  the  swiftness  of  a  magician's  wand,  never  make 
mistakes. 

There  is  another  day's  work  before  the  Pay-Master, 
and  a  somewhat  unusual  one  for  him.  ,  Four  companies 
remain  to  be  paid,  and  the  special  train  has  gone  back 
to  New  Orleans.  We  must  travel,  therefore,  by  a  hand- 
car. The  mysterious  box  is  carried  to  the  car,  the  clerk 
sits  on  it,  keeping  a  bright  look-out  toward  the  rear, 
lest  any  pursuing  locomotive  should  rush  upon  us  ere  we 
know  it ;  the  Pay-Master  and  I  seat  ourselves  in  front 
upon  the  floor,  and  half  a  dozen  soldiers,  who  are  both 
guard  and  engine,  stow  themselves  away  as  best  they 
can,  and  then  seizing  the  crank,  put  our  little  vehicle 
slowly  in  motion. 

It  is  very  pleasant  skimming  along  swiftly  so  close  to 
the  ground,  with  so  little  noise  or  jarring,  with  such  an 
absence  of  smoke  and  dust,  and  with  such  a  free,  unre- 
strained view  of  everything  around  us.  By  far  the 
pleasantest  ride  upon  the  rail  that  any  of  us  have  ever 
had,  is  this.  We  fly  quickly  across  the  wide  plantation 
that  adjoins  the  camp,  and  then  enter  the  wood  or 
swamp,  whichever  you  prefer  to  call  it. 

"  There  will  be  no  train  coming  along  I  hope,"  says 
the  Pay-Master,  as  he  glances  at  the  narrow  roadway 
and  black,  slimy  water  that  come  close  to  us  on  either 
side.  "What  should  we  do  now,  for  instance  ?" 

"  Tumble  the  hand-car  into  the  swamp,  and  slide  our- 
selves down  the  sides  of  the  road,  and  lie  quiet  till  the 
train  has  passed." 


32  PRISON   CAMPS. 

"  Ugh  !"  says  the  Pay-Master.  "  I  do  not  like  the 
idea  of  sliding  myself  into  that  water.  Look  how  black 
and  slimy  it  is,  and  then  that  unhealthy  green  scum 
upon  it.  I  should  not  wonder  if  it  were  full  of  snakes 
and  alligators." 

"  Alligators  !     You  may  say  that ;  look  there  !" 

An  immense  alligator  is  seen  stretched  on  a  fallen 
tree,  and  dozing  in  the  warmth  of  the  April  sun. 

"  May  I  give  him  a  shot  ?"  asks  the  sergeant  of  our 
guard,  drawing  his  revolver. 

"  Yes,  if  you  can  hit  him." 

The  sergeant  slowly  raises  his  pistol — the  hand-car 
stops — bang !  and  the  bullet  strikes  against  the  scaly 
side  and  glances  off.  The  alligator  slides  from  the  log, 
and  disappears  in  the  inky  water. 

"  I  don't  care  about  making  that  gentleman's  acquaint- 
ance," says  the  Pay-Master.  "  Mr.  Clerk,  please  keep 
a  sharp  look-out  behind  for  any  stray  locomotive  that 
may  be  coming  along,  and  the  Colonel  and  I  will  look 
out  ahead.  Seven  miles  you  say  it  is  to  the  next  sta- 
tion ?  Well,  I  shall  feel  a  little  easier  when  we  get  there." 

The  hand-car  resumes  its  former  speed,  and  we  fly 
along  through  the  deep  shades  and  deeper  stillness  of  the 
swamp.  The  rumbling  of  the  car  that  we  hardly  heard 
in  the  open  fields  now  echoes  distinctly,  and  our  voices 
almost  startle  us,  they  sound  so  very  clear  and  loud. 
There  are  no  fields  or  openings  on  either  side,  no  firm 
ground  to  stand  upon,  and  the  trees  rise  out  of  the  green- 
coated  water. 


THE   PAY-MASTEK.  33 

"Stop!  what's  that?  There's  something  ahead," 
calls  the  Pay-Master  ;  "  is  it  an  engine  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  replies  the  sergeant,  "  it  is  the  picket  at 
Moccason  Bayou." 

A  mile  or  two  ahead  can  be  dimly  seen  something 
moving  where  the  railroad  track  is  lost  among  the  over- 
hanging trees.  Then,  as  the  car  lessens  the  distance,  can 
be  distinguished  the  figures  of  three  or  four  men,  the 
gleam  of  their  muskets  and  the  blue  uniform  of  the 
United  States.  The  picket  has  turned  out  and  is  watch- 
ing us.  Our  engineer  puts  on  a  full  head  of  steam,  and 
our  little  special  train  rushes  along  faster  than  ever, 
until  it  is  "  braked-down  "  on  the  very  bank  of  Mocca- 
son Bayou. 

"These  are  your  men,  are  they?"  asks  the  Pay- 
Master. 

"  Yes,  they  are  here  guarding  the  bridge." 

"  Then  I  will  take  an  order  from  them  authorizing  me 
to  pay  the  money  to  their  Captain." 

The  Pay-Master  writes  the  order,  and  looks  around 
with  curiosity  at  the  picket  station.  We  peer  into  the 
bayou,  which  is  supposed  to  swarm  with  deadly  mocca- 
son  snakes,  and  then  climbing  on  the  car,  resume  our 
jaunt.  We  pay  the  two  companies  stationed  at  Tiger- 
ville ;  we  hearken  to  the  commanding  officer's  advice  to 
stay  and  dine  with  him,  and  then,  with  a  new  hand-car 
and  a  fresh  guard,  we  run  twelve  miles  further  up  the 
road  and  pay  the  last  company.  An  hour  or  two  after 
dark  this  is  accomplished,  and  we  prepare  to  return. 

2* 


34:  PEISON   CAMPS. 

As  we  approach  the  car,  one  of  the  men  meets  us  with 
a'  rumor  that  a  division  of  the  army  is  coming  np  the 
single  track,  and  that  doubtless  we  shall  meet  several 
trains  where  the  swamp  is  darkest  and  the  roadway  nar- 
rowest. "We  investigate  the  rumor,  and  find  that  it  is 
based  on  the  fact  that  the  trains  ought  to  come,  but  no 
one  really  knows  that  they  are  coming.  "What  do  you 
think,  Pay-Master  ?  You  and  the  money-chest  must  be 
taken  great  care  of."  The  Pay-Master  thinks  that  if  we 
had  a  lantern  it  would  be  safe.  We  procure  a  lantern, 
and  hold  a  consultation.  One  of  our  guard  is  an  ex- 
perienced railroad  builder;  he  knows  the  ways  of  hand- 
cars, and  can  tell  afar  off  the  sound  of  advancing  trains. 
He  promises  to  "brake-down"  the  hand-car  in  an 
instant,  and  to  forewarn  ns  of  impending  engines  long 
before  they  can  run  into  us. 

We  start,  and  the  experienced  man  stands  with  his 
hand  upon  the  brake,  and  an  officer  who  has  joined  us 
takes  his  place  in  front,  holding  the  lantern  plainly  in 
sight.  Away  we  go  into  the  darkness  of  the  swamp — a 
darkness  so  thick  that  you  cannot  see  the  man  who  sits 
beside  you.  For  several  miles  the  road  runs  straight  as 
an  arrow,  and  I  sit  behind  with  the  Pay-Master,  trusting 
those  in  front  to  keep  a  look-out.  At  length  we  come 
out  of  the  swamp  and  enter  an  open  plantation  country, 
through  which  the  road  makes  many  turns.  "  Ease  off 
and  then  brake-down,"  and  the  car  lessens  its  speed  and 
in  a  few  moments  stops.  The  experienced  man  goes  for- 
ward, puts  one  ear  close  to  the  track,  and  announces 


THE  PAY-MASTER.  35 

that  there  is  no  train  on  the  road  within  ten  miles.     "We 

« 

start  again,  and  this  time  I  stand  up  and  post  myself 
where  I  can  have  a  clear  view  of  the  front. 

"  Ob,  Colonel,  sit  down,"  says  the  experienced  man ; 
"  no  use  in  your  standing  up.  I'll  tell  you  the  moment 
any  train  comes  in  sight." 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  but  as  the  way  is  some- 
what crooked  from  here  to  Tigerville,  I  think  I  shall  be 
quite  as  comfortable  keeping  a  little  look-out  of  my  own, 
as  sitting  down  and  trusting  it  all  to  you." 

The  hand-car  runs  merrily  forward ;  the  men,  refreshed 
with  our  brief  halt,  are  sending  it  along  with  increased 
speed,  when  through  the  trees  and  bushes,  across  a  sharp 
curve  of  the  road — a  flash — a  light,  and  the  thunder  of  a 
coming  train.  "An  engine."  "The  cars."  "  f  Brake- 
down' quick."  "They're  at  full  speed."  •" They'll  be 
on  us  if  you  don't  hurry."  The  experienced  man  tugs  at 
the  brake,  the  others  start  up  and  frantically  endeavor 
to  extricate  their  legs  and  arms  (which  everybody  else 
seems  to  be  sitting  upon),  the  hand-car  runs  on  as  if  it 
will  never  stop ;  the  heavy  engine  glares  on  us  with  its 
great,  glowing  eye,  and  comes  rushing  forward  in  una- 
bated haste.  There  is  no  time  to  waste  in  trifles ;  the 
officer  in  front  springs  from  the  car  and  runs  down  the 
road,  waving  the  lantern  with  all  his  might ;  a  couple 
of  soldiers  tumble  themselves  off,  and  one  adroitly  falls 
across  the  track,  and  lies  there  stunned ;  the  experienced 
man  strains  away  on  his  brake ;  the  Pay -Master  and  I 
drop  off  behind,  and  seizing  hold  of  the  car,  succeed  in 


36  PRISON   CAMPS. 

stopping  it.  The  train  seems  but  a  few  yards  distant, 
crashing  and  thundering,  and  shaking  the  very  ground 
we  stand  on.  The  Pay-Master,  who  has  been  the  most 
cautious  of  the  party,  is  now  the  most  cool  and  decided. 
"While  two  men  push  against  each  other  and  the  ex- 
perienced man  gives  contradictory  directions,  the  Pay- 
Master  seizes  the  car,  capsizes  it  off  the  track,  and  hurls 
it  down  the  bank.  The  precious  box  and  the  stunned 
soldier  are  dragged  out  of  the  way,  and  the  train  goes 
roaring  past.  ."When  all  is  over,  we  first  berate  the 
experienced  man  roundly,  then  haul  the  car  with  much 
trouble  up  the  bank  and  on  to  the  track,  and  then  feel 
our  way  cautiously  down  to  Tigerville.  There  we  refresh 
ourselves  with  a  cold  supper,  tell  over  the  tale  of  our 
escape,  and  abuse  the  engineer  to  our  heart's  content  for 
not  seeing  our  lantern,  and  stopping  his  train.  The  Pay- 
Master  announces  his  intention  of  writing  the  history  of 
the  last  twenty-four  hours,  and  publishing  it  as  the 
"  Adventures  of  a  Pay-Master."  I  am  sorry  to  say  he 
does  not  keep  this  promise. 


THE   WILD  TEXANS.  37 


III. 

THE    WILD    TEXANS. 

SOME  weeks  after  the  pay-day,  I  found  myself  stretch- 
ed upon  a  bed,  in  a  little  shanty,  at  Tigerville.  I  had 
some  hazy  recollections  of  having  moved  my  quarters  to 
Tigerville — of  having  left  my  tent  one  evening,  after 
dress-parade,  for  a  ride — of  having  ridden  to  the  hospital 
and  dismounted,  with  a  dizzy  head  and  aching  frame — 
of  the  surgeon  telling  me,  that  I  was  very  ill  and  must 
not  go  back — and  then  of  horrible  fever-visions. 

The  long  days  travelled  slowly,  and  the  sultry  nights 
wore  away  wearily,  but  they  rolled  into  weeks  ere  any- 
thing was  gained.  Then  I  was  carried  to  Brashear,  and 
placed  in  a  house  which  had  been  the  mansion  of  an  old 
Louisiana  family.  In  front  was  a  strip  of  lawn  shaded 
by  large  oaks  moss-hung  and  spreading.  Beneath  them 
the  view  opened  on  the  waters  of  the  Atchafalaya,  which 
here  had  widened  into  Berwick  Bay,  and  beyond,  on  the 
little  village  of  Berwick.  Around  were  the  remains  of 
the  finest  garden  of  western  Louisiana.  There  still  lin- 
gered thickets  of  the  fig  and  orange,  of  lemon  and  ban- 
ana; and  there  still  fiowered  oleanders,  and  catalpas, 
and  jasmin,  with  many  other  specimens  of  tropical 
fruits  and  flowers.  As  I  sat  observing  these  remnants 


38  PRISON   CAMPS. 

of  other  times,  an  old  New  York  friend  and  his  wife 
came  in.  The  lady  looked  around  on  the  grass-grown 
walks,  broken  and  effaced ;  on  the  long  rows  of  fruit 
trees  to  which  horses  were  picketed ;  on  the  rare  flower- 
beds trampled  out  by  droves  of  mules ;  on  the  smooth 
grass-plots  covered  with  heaps  of  rubbish. 

"  You  have  been  here  before,"  I  said,  as  I  marked 
the  careful  looks  that  travelled  so  closely  over  every  part 
of  the  sad,  disordered  scene. 

"  I  have  passed  the  most  of  my  life  here,"  she  replied. 
"  This  is  my  mother's  house." 

It  was  the  story  of  another  divided  family.  All  of 
her  own  relations  were  in  the  Confederate  lines,  and  she 
had  remained  with  her  husband  to  await  the  coming  of 
the  Union  army. 

The  enemy  were  gathering  above  us  on  the  Teche. 
Those  oath-taking  patriots,  whose  sons  were  in  the  ene- 
my's army  and  crops  within  our  lines  ;  who,  heretofore, 
had  stood  aloof  and  scowled  sullenly  at  us  when  we 
passed,  now  came  into  camp,  and  for  once  were  commu- 
nicative. They  asked  us  if  we  knew  what  was  coming, 
and  hinted  at  Southern  conscription,  and  the  damage 
the  "Wild  Texans  would  do  the  growing  crop.  They 
feared  the  rough  riders  from  the  prairies,  and  told  many 
tales  of  their  lawless  cruelty.  There  came  in,  too,  refu- 
gees and  contrabands,  all  speaking  of  the  enemy's  in- 
creasing strength  ;  of  boats  collecting  for  some  night 
attack,  and  of  the  reckless  fierceness  of  those  Wild 
Texans.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  the  Wild  Texans 


-THE  WILD  TEXAS8.  39 

began  to  move  in  open  day.  They  came  down  in  little 
scouting  parties,  hiding  behind  houses  and  bushes,  but 
constantly  on  the  alert.  We  must  have  presented  tempt- 
ing marks  for  a  long-range  Enfield,  yet  they  never  fired, 
but  flitted  silently  about,  always  observing  us,  yet  never 
responding  to  our  many  shots. 

I  watched  these  indications  of  the  gathering  storm, 
with  the  nervous  irritability  inseparable  from  conval- 
escence. Eut  every  slight  exertion  brought  on  a  slight 
relapse,  and  I  was  soon  forced,  so  far  as  I  could  do  so,  to 
abstract  myself  from  these  excitements,  and  try  to  gather 
back  my  strength  in  time  to  be  of  service  in  the  coming 
trouble.  To  this  end,  I  took  up  the  contents  of  some 
captured  mails.  There  were  a  few  of  the  ridiculous 
letters,  that  once  found  their  way  freely  into  our  news- 
papers, with  bad  spelling,  and  false  syntax,  and  bom- 
bastic rhetoric,  but  the  most  of  them  were  sad.  More 
woeful  letters  were  never  read  than  these  "Wild  Texans 
wrote.  There  were  such  mournful  yearnings  for  home 
— for  peace — for  those  they  had  left  behind,  that,  in- 
sensibly, the  mind  changed  from  exultation  into  pity. 
There  was  a  slight  compunction,  too,  in  running  the  eye 
over  the  secrets  of  our  enemies ;  a  more  than  reluctance 
to  look  upon  these  hidden  words,  which  love  and  duty 
had  written  for  loving  eyes,  and  coldly  appropriate  them 
as  our  own.  There  were  tales  of  want  and  tales  of  lovo 
— tidings  of  weddings  and  of  deaths.  Here  was  a  letter 
from  a  father  in  Port  Hudson,  to  his  "  dear  little  daugh- 
ters ;"  and  here  one  from  a  mother  to  her  "  own  beloved 


40  PRISOff  CAMPS. 

son."  This  is  a  family  letter,  written  by  the  parents 
and  sisters,  to  their  "two  dear  boys,"  who  now  are 
watching  us  from  the  other  shore.  And  this  one  is  the 
reverse,  for  it  is  addressed  to  "father,  mother,  wife,  and 
sisters."  The  rebel  soldier  has  filled  his  "  last  sheet" 
with  sad  forebodings,  with  few  hopes,  much  love,  and 
many  prayers.  A  widow's  letter  tells  me,  that  her  only 
child  fell  at  luka;  and  a  father's,  that  his  eldest  son- 
died  before  Dalton.  "  What  wonder,"  each  letter  asks, 
"  that  I  wish  to  die  and  be  at  rest  ?"  Among  so  many, 
of  course  a  love-letter  can  be  found,  breathing  a  first 
avowal.  It  is  written  to  some  village  beauty,  and  hints 
at  rivals,  and  her  sometime  smiles  and  sometime  frowns. 
The  village  beauty  is,  I  judge,  a  slight  coquette,  who 
has  led  her  lover  along  with  little  encouragements 
and  little  rebuffs.  His  letter  is  written  in  a  manly 
strain,  and  tells  her  that  he  had  hoped  to  gain  an  honor- 
able name,  and  come  back  to  win  her  in  an  early  peace. 
But  the  peace  has  not  come.  lie  can  bear  this  suspense 
no  longer.  He  begs  her  to  deal  frankly  and  truly  with 
him,  and,  if  she  loves  him,  to  answer  this  letter.  The 
letter  will  never  be  answered !  I  laid  it  away,  and 
thought  that  I  would  send  it,  by  some  flag  of  truce,  to 
the  unknown  belle.  But  my  papers  were  captured,  and 
this  letter,  on  which  so  many  hopes  hung,  was  lost. 

The  threatening  trouble  drew  nearer.  There  were 
frequent  alarms — the  cannon  rung  out  their  warnings 
often  during  the  night — the  long  rolls  were  beaten  and 
the  troops  assembled  and  stood  on  their  arms.  One 


THE   WILD  TEXANS.  41 

night  I  awoke  at  the  call  of  the  cannon  near  my  window, 
and  heard  the  men  assembling  and  the  ammunition 
wagons  rolling  past.  To  one  accustomed  to  act  at  such 
times,  such  forced  inaction  is  the  severest  of  trials.  I 
watched  from  habit,  expecting  the  rattling  small  arms  of 
an  attack,  but  the  night  wore  away  in  unusual  silence. 
The  next  morning  I  was  told  that  all  our  troops  save  the 
sick  and  a  few  on  guard,  had  gone.  The  sick  men 
whispered  each  other  that  we  were  defenceless,  and  it 
was  wTell  that  we  had  the  telegraph  and  railroad,  and 
could  call  our  troops  back  in  case  of  an  attack  from 
across  the  river.  A  few  hours  passed  and  then  the  tele- 
graph suddenly  ceased  its  ticking — the  railroad  was  cut 
and  the  enemy  was  between  us  and  our  forces  at  La 
Fourche. 

No  relief  came,  and  after  three  days  of  suspense, 
Erashear  was  carried  by  assault.  Some  of  our  sick  men 
formed  a  line  and  behaved  well,  but  they  were  quickly 
overpowered.  The  red  flag  of  our  hospital  was  not  un- 
derstood by  the  assaulting  party,  and  for  a  little  while 
it  looked  as  if  no  quarter  would  be  given  by  the  Wild 
Texans  to  our  sick  and  wounded.  I  had  risen  and  mount- 
ed my  horse  after  the  attack  commenced,  and  I  now  dis- 
mounted at  the  hospital,  and  with  Captain  Noblet  of 
the  1st  Indiana  Artillery  stood  awaiting  the  result.  The 
Captain  was  full  of  wrath,  and  vowed  that  he  would  put 
the  two  or  three  charges,  still  in  his  revolver,  in  places 
where  two  or  three  of  the  murdering  villains  would  feel 
them.  A  wild  looking  squad,  with  broad  hats  and  Jang- 


42  PRISON   CAMPS. 

ling  spurs,  rushed,  revolver  in  hand,  upon  the  building. 
In  no  very  decided  mood  at  the  time,  and  acting  chiefly 
from  the  military  habit  of  looking  to  some  one  in  au- 
thority, I  asked  sharply  if  there  was  an  officer  among 
them.  They  stopped,  looked,  a  trifle  disconcerted,  and 
one  answered  that  he  was  a  sergeant. 

"  This  is  a  hospital,"  I  said,  authoritatively.  "  Ser- 
geant, put  two  men  on  guard  at  the  door,  and  don't 
let  any  but  the  wounded  pass  in." 

"  "Well  then,  Bill,"  said  the  sergeant,  "  you  and  John 
stand  guard  here.  And  now  see  you  don't  let  nobody 
go  in  unless  they  be  wounded." 

This  was  the  flrst  and  last  order  I  ever  gave  to  a  Con- 
federate soldier,  and  it  is  due  to  the  sergeant  to  say  that 
he  executed  it  promptly  and  well. 

About  the  same  instant  another  squad  rushed  to  a 
side  window  and  poked  their  rifles  through  the  sash. 
Dr.  "Willets,  the  surgeon  of  the  176th,  at  the  moment  was 
operating  on  a  wounded  soldier.  AVith  professional  cool- 
ness he  turned  to  the  window,  and  in  the  decided  man- 
ner that  one  would  speak  to  a  crowd  of  small  boys, 
said — 

"  This  is  a  hospital ;  you  mustn't  come  here.  Go  away 
from  the  window  and  get  out  of  my  light." 

The  rifles  were  withdrawn ;  the  party  looked  at  the 
window  a  moment  in  a  somewhat  awe-struck  manner, 
and  then  saying  to  each  other,  "  You  mustn't  go  there," 
they  withdrew. 

The  wounded  of  both  sides  were  brought  in,  and  our 


THE   WILD   TEXAN8.  43 

surgeons,  with  scrupulous  impartiality,  treated  all  alike. 
From  beside  their  operating  table  I  was  moved  to  an 
upper  room  with  Lieutenant  Stevenson  of  the  176th.  A 
mirmie  ball  had  torn  through  the  entire  length  of  his 
foot,  leaving  a  frightful  wound  that  threatened  lockjaw 
and  amputation.  On  the  next  cot  lay  a  wounded  Con- 
federate named  Lewis — a  plain,  simple-hearted  man, 
who,  for  the  next  week,  proved  a  useful  and  trustworthy 
friend.  As  we  thus  lay  there,  my  regimental  colors,  by 
some  strange  chance,  were  brought  into  the  room.  Our 
conversation  stopped  —  the  sick  and  wounded  raised 
themselves  from  their  cots,  and  all  eyes  were  fastened 
upon  the  inanimate  flag  as  though  it  were  a  being  of 
intelligence  and  life.  The  Texan  soldier  first  broke  the 
silence. 

"  That,"  he  said,  in  a  dreamy  way — half  to  himself 
and  half  to  us — "that  has  been  the  proudest  flag  that' 
ever  floated." 

"And  is  still,  sir"  said  my  wounded  lieutenant, 
proudly. 

The  Texan  said  nothing.  I  expected  an  outbreak,  for 
there  had  been  na  little  defiance  in  the  lieutenant's  re- 
ply, but  none  came.  Some  old  emotion  had  evidently 
touched  his  heart  and  carried  him  back  to  earlier  and 
better  days. 

As  he  turned  away  my  color-sergeant  whispered  tome 
a  plan  for  destroying  the  colors,  which,  however,  I  did 
not  approve.  He  pleaded  that  he  knew  every  thread  of 
that  flag,  and  that  it  would  almost  kill  him  to  see  it 
borne  away  by  rebel  hands.  "  No,  Sergeant,"  I  was 


44  PRISON   CAMPS. 

obliged  to  reply,  "  we  must  keep  our  colors  by  fighting 
for  them,  and  not  by  a  dirty  trick."  The  answer  satis- 
fied neither  the  sergeant  nor  my  fell'ow  officers.  Yet 
before  rny  own  imprisonment  was  over,  I  had  the  great 
happiness  of  learning  that  the  undestroyed  fiag,  honor- 
ably recaptured,  was  restored  to  its  regiment. 

An  officer  soon  appeared  charged  with  the  duty  of 
paroling  our  men.  His  quiet  and  courteous  manner  said 
/plainly  that  he  was  a  gentleman,  and  he  introduced  him- 
self as  Captain  Watt,  of  Gen.  Mouton's  staff.  The  Cap- 
tain and  I  looked  at  each  other  as  men  do  who  think 
they  have  met  before.  He  then  informed  me  that 
formerly  he  had  spent  his  summers  at  Saratoga  and 
Newport,  and  that  he  thought  we  must  have  known  each 
other  there.  For  this  slight  reason — so  slight  that 
many  men  would  have  made  it  a  good  excuse  for  drop- 
ping an  acquaintance,  if  any  had  existed — Captain  Watt  ^ 
called  on  me  repeatedly,  procured  an  order  for  my  being 
retained  in  the  Brashear  hospital,  and  for  several  months 
carefully  transmitted  to  me  such  letters  as  found  their 
way  through  the  lines.  His  family  had  been  one  of  the 
wealthiest  in  New  Orleans,  and  were  now  refuge-es  in 
Europe.  He  had  entered  the  army  under  the  belief  that 
it  was  a  duty  to  his  State,  and  on  the  capture  of  the  city 
had  beheld  the  ruin  of  all  who  were  dearest  to  him.  Yet 
he  made  no  ill-timed  allusions  to  this,  and!  in  our  conversa- 
tions always  selected  pleasant  topics  and  spoke  kindly  of 
the  hours  he  had  spent  and  the  acquaintances  he  had 
made  in  the  North. 

The  chief  Confederate  surgeon  (Dr.  Hughes,  of  Yic- 


THE   WILD   TEXANS.  45 

toria,  Texas,)  next  arrived,  and  assumed  command  at 
the  hospital.  It  caused  at  first  but  little  change.  Our 
own  surgeons  continued  in  charge  of  our  wounded — 
our  steward  continued  to  dispense  the  stores,  and  the 
stores  continued  to  be  forthcoming.  The  Confederate 
Burgeons  were  polite  and  kind,  doing  all  they  could  to 
make  us  comfortable,  and  expressing  thanks  for  the 
treatment  previously  bestowed  on  their  own  wounded. 
Thus,  in  a  few  hours,  our  affairs  had  settled  down  in 
their  new  channels ;  and  we,  with  a  strange,  new  feeling 
of  restriction  upon  us,  set  ourselves  to  wait  for  the  bad 
news,  and  fresh  reverses  likely  to  come.  From  our 
window  we  could  see  the  Confederate  forces  crossing  the 
river.  They  waited  not  for  tardy  quarter-masters  or 
proper  transportation,  but,  in  flat  boats  and  dug-outs, 
pressed  steadily  across.  A  little  steamer  dropped  out 
of  one  of  the  narrow  bayous,  and  worked  ceaselessly, 
bringing  over  artillery.  Ere  sunset,  we  estimated  that 
five  thousand  men  and  four  batteries  had  crossed,  and 
were  moving  forward  to  'break  our  communications  on 
the  Mississippi,  and  compel  us  to  raise  the  siege  of  Port 
Hudson. 

From  this  early  day,  there  was  a  strong  resolve  in 
the  minds  of  most  of  us,  to  be  cheerful  before  the  enemy, 
and,  whatever  we  felt,  not  to  let  them  see  us  downcast. 
"When  the  mind  is  really  roused  and  in  motion,  a  little 
effort  will  turn  it  into  almost  any  channel.  We  made 
the  effort,  and  succeeded.  One  individual  who  came  in 
last,  and  ventured  to  say,  with  solemn  visage,  that  this 


46  PRISON  CAMPS. 

calamity  was  awful,  was  immediately  frowned  down, 
and  warned  that,  if  he  talked  such  nonsense  here,  he 
should  be  moved  to  some  other  ward.  The  effect  was 
magical,  and  in  ten  minutes  he  became  rather  a  merry, 
careless  kind  of  fellow.  This  treatment,  I  believe,  saved 
many  lives ;  and  I  found  that  my  own  convalescence, 
which  had  been  slow  and  changeful  in  the  previous 
quiet,  was  now  rapid  and  steady. 

There  were  sorrows  enough  to  see,  if  one  chose  to  look 
toward  them.  So  many  causes  never  united  to  depress, 
and  never  produced  so  little  effect.  Neither  the  shame- 
ful loss  of  the  post,  nor  the  presence  of  the  sick  and 
wounded  filling  every  room,  nor  our  unburied  dead  who 
lay  around  the  building,  nor  the  prospect  of  a  long  cap- 
tivity, nor  the  helplessness  of  disease,  nor  the  suffering 
of  wounds,  were  sufficient  to  make  us  appear  sad.  I 
marvelled  then,  and  cannot  understand  now,  how  the 
mind  was  able  to  throw  off  these  troubles,  and  how  real 
this  enforced  cheerfulness  became.  A  sense  of  duty  dic- 
tated it  at  the  beginning,  and  redeemed  it  from  heart- 
lessness  afterward.  Once,  indeed,  my  spirits  failed  me, 
as  I  searched  some  private  letters  to  find  an  address. 
They  were  so  light-hearted  and  happy,  and  dwelt  on  the 
belief,  as  on  a  certainty,  that  he,  to  whom  they  were 
written,  would  return  crowned  with  honor.  It  was  a 
happy  and  brief  illusion.  An  only  sister  had  given 
her  only  brother  to  the  war — the  orphan  pair  had  made 
this  great  sacrifice  of  separation;  and  now  I  had  to  write 
to  the  young  girl,  and  say  that  he  had  been  my  most 


THE  WILD  TEXANS.  47 

trusted   officer,   and  had  fallen  for  the  honor  of  his 
flag* 

There  was  a  class  of  captives  who  saw  the  loss  of 
Brash  ear  with  heavier  hearts  than  those  who  possessed 
the  rights  and  hopes  of  "prisoners  of  war."  The 
unhappy  contrabands  were  agitated  before  the  blow  fell, 
tmt  met  it  with  the  tearless  apathy  of  their  race.  "The 
niggers  don't  look  as  if  they  wanted  to  see  us,"  I  heard 
one  Confederate  soldier  say  to  another. 

"No,"  said  the  other;  "but  you'll  see  a  herd. of  fat 
planters  here  to-morrow  after  them.  They  don't  fight 
any,  but  they  are  always  on  hand  for  their  niggers." 

It  was  even  so :  for  days,  planter  after  planter  appear- 
ed, and  party  after  party  of  men,  women  and  children, 
laden  with  their  beds  and  baggage,  tramped  sorrowfully 
past  our  quarters.  The  hundreds  that  remained  went,  I 
know  not  whither. 

There  was  one  woman,  a  quadroon,  who  had  been  an 
attendant  in  our  hospital.  "With  her  there  were  an  old 
mother,  darker  than  herself,  and  a  little  daughter  so 
fair,  that  no  one  ever  suspected  her  of  being  tainted 
with  the  blood  of  the  hapless  race.  This  woman,  through 
all  the  turmoil  and  trial  of  that  time,  never  lost  the 
little  marks  of  neatness  and  propriety  that  tell  so  plainly 
in  woman  of  innate  dignity  and  refinement.  The  taste- 
ful simplicity  of  her  frequently  changed  dress  ;  the  neat 
collar  and  snowy  cuffs  ;  the  pretty  wrork-box,  and  more 
especially  her  quiet  reserve,  indicated  rather  the  lady 

*  Captain  John  S.  Cutter. 


48  PRISON   CAMPS. 

than  the  slave.  During  the  fight  she  had  been  calm 
and  brave,  and  when  a  couple  of  cowards  had  rushed 
into  the  hospital  and  begged  for  a  place  where  they 
could  lie  down  and  hide  themselves,  this  woman,  while 
volleys  were  firing  at  the  hospital,  and  men  and  women 
falling  in  the  passages,  had  shown  these  men  to  a  room 
and  closed  the  door  on  them,  and  walked  away  so 
quietly  that  one  might  have  thought  her  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  danger  that  threatened  them.  An  hour  or 
two  later,  as  she  passed  through  the  ward  where  we 
lay,  she  stopped  at  the  window  and  looked  out  on  the 
scene  of  the  Confederates  crossing  the  river.  Of  all  the 
persons  to  whom  the  capture  of  Brashear  boded  grief  and 
wrong,  there  probably  was  not  one  to  whom  it  threat- 
ened so  much  as  to  her.  With  her  mother  and  her 
child,  she  had  been  preparing  to  seek  the  surer  refuge 
of  the  North,  and  this  direful  calamity  had  come  when 
the  place  of  safety  appeared  almost  within  her  reach. 
Yet  she  shed  no  tears,  and  uttered  no  complainings. 
Her  large,  sad  eyes  fastened  on  the  river,  she  stood 
beside  the  window  and  heard  the  shouts  and  yells  that 
told  of  the  Confederate  triumph.  For  half  an  hour  she 
never  moved ;  her  face  retained  its  soft  composure, 
and  only  once  the  muscles  of  the  lip  fluttered  and 
trembled,  as  though  there  might  be  a  troubled  sea  with 
in.  Then  she  turned  and  went  back  to  her  work,  as 
calmly  as  if  she  alone  had  suffered  no  change.  She 
cheered  those  men  who  were  struggling  for  strength  to 
go  out  on  parole ;  she  worked  for  those  officers  who 


THE   WILD   TEXANS.  49 

were  to  be  sent  forward  into  captivity.  .  For  herself,  she 
never  invited  aid  or  sympathy.  We  asked  her  if  we 
might  not  send  for  her  former  master  to  come  and  take 
her  back  to  her  old  home.  But  this,  for  some  untold 
reason,  she  steadfastly  refused.  It  was  urged  that  she 
and  her  child  would  be  sent  far  into  Texas  or  Arkansas ; 
and  that  they  might  be  seized,  as  so  much  booty,  by 
some  of  these  half-savage  strangers.  She  answered 
quietly,  that  she  had  tho^ht  of  this.  Ere  we  parted, 
we  asked  her  what  future  help  we  could  give,  and 
what  plan  she  would  pursue  to  regain  her  freedom, 
or  secure  some  less  dangerous  home.  And  she  said 
briefly,  that  she  did  not  know,  and  said  no  more. 

The  captured  officers,  able  to  march,  were  sent  forward 
to  Shreveport,  and  the  men  were  paroled  and  marched 
off  to  our  lines.  Three  officers  of  my  regiment  re- 
mained with  me — two  sick,  and  one  severely  wounded. 
Two  "  citizen  prisoners  "  were  also  added  to  our  number. 
One  of  these,  whom  I  shall  call  Mr.  Stratford,  was  held 
as  lessee  of  a  confiscated  plantation.  His  wife  was  per- 
mitted to  remain  with  him,  and  she  now  visited  the  hos- 
pital daily.  The  other  civilian  was  Mr.  Dwight  Parce, 
of  Chenango  County,  E"ew  York,  who  had  just  begun 
business  in  Brashear.  He  now  witnessed  the  destruction 
of  his  property  with  undiminished  cheerfulness,  and, 
although  an  invalid,  fated  to  fill  a  prisoner's  grave  in 
Texas,  met  the  discomforts  that  awaited  him  with  a 
serenity  and  hopefulness  that  nothing  ever  disturbed. 

"We,  all  effected  some  captures  of  baggage.  Captain 

3 


50  PRISON  CAMP9. 

Watt  sent  me  an  order  for  the  delivery  of  mine  if  it 
could  be  found,  and  Dr.  Hughes,  with  ever  ready  kind- 
ness, advised  me  to  take  his  ambulance  and  search  for  it 
at  the  fort,  where  some  captured  property  was  stored. 
The  guard  consisted  of  a  young  gentleman  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  and  no  shoes,  who,  when  requested  to  go, 
whistled  violently,  and  perched  himself  on  the  rear 
of  the  ambulance,  with  his  face  toward  the  hospital  and 
his  back  toward  me.  I  asked  him,  with  some  surprise, 
if  he  was  not  going  to  take  his  rifle ;  at  which  he  stop- 
ped whistling  and  said,  he  reckoned  not.  After  whis- 
tling a  few  minutes,  he  further  'defined  his  position  by 
saying,  that  if  I  ran  away  he  reckoned  he  could  run 
after  me ;  and  then,  that  he  reckoned  the  climate  had 
been  a  heap  too  much  for  me.  After  another  whistle 
his  stiffness  wore  away  a  trifle,  and  he  manifestly  tried 
to  put  .me  at  my  ease  by  saying,  "Dog  gone  the 
Lousanny  climate,  and  the  bayous,  and  the  beef;  and 
dog  gone  the  Lousanyans,  they're  the  meanest  set  of 
people  ever  I  see.  I'd  just  as  soon  shoot  one  of  'em  as  a 
Yank."  This  put  me  quite  at  my  ease,  and  we  then  had 
a  very  interesting  conversation.  The  etymology  of 
"doggone"  my  guard  was  ignorant  of;  he  suggested 
that  it  meant  pretty  much  what  something  else  did,  but 
wasn't  quite  so  bad,  in  which  opinion  I  coincided. 
Since  then  I  have  learnt  that  this  expressive  phrase  is 
derived  from  the  threat  of  putting  a  dog  on  you,  and 
that  it  saves  annually,  in  Texas,  an  immense  amount  of 
swearing,  and  is  found  to  answer  just  as  well. 


THE   WILD   TEXANS.  51 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  of  July,  the  Officer  of  the 
Day  appeared.  He  was  a  Captain  in  Colonel  Bates'  Tex- 
an Battalion,  and  he  blandly  begged  that  we  would 
prepare  to  move  in  the  afternoon;  the  boat  would  be 
ready  at  five,  and  we  would  be  sent  to  the  hospital  at 
Franklin,  where  we  would  be  much  more  comfortable. 
The  boat  did  not  come,  however,  and  we  remained  to 
celebrate  the  "  Fourth  "  at  Brashear.  "We  went  round 
among  our  sick  men  who  remained,  to  cheer  them  with 
the  certainty  of  their  early  release  ;  we  read  the  Decla- 
ration, and  we  drank  a  bottle  of  wine,  which  Mrs.  Strat- 
ford, with  patriotic  devotion,  smuggled  in  for  us.  Our 
friend,  the  ex-officer  of  the  day,  reappeared  to  apologize ; 
the  boat  had  been  detained — he  knew  he  mu^t  have 
caused  us  much  trouble — he  had  come  to  beg  us  to  for- 
give him — he  deeply  regretted  that  he  had  not  known  of 
the  delay  in  time  to  inform  us.  To-day  he  believed 
that  there  would  be  no  delay,  and  he  had  just  requested 
the  new  Officer  to  order  the  boat  up  to  the  hospital, 
so  that  we  should  not  have  the  trouble  of  walking 
down  to  where  she  lay.  Nothing  could  have  been  more 
elegant,  chivalric,  and  delightful.  If  he  were  one  of  my 
own  officers  and  I  were  the  Lieutenant-Qeneral,  he  could 
not  have  been  more  courteous  and  respectful. 

"VYe  started  on  our  "  Fourth  of  July  excursion"  in  the 
afternoon.  While  the  boat  was  lying  at  the  wharf,  an 
officer,  with  long  white  hair  and  of  imposing  appear- 
ance, came  slowly  down  the  saloon.  As  he  drew  near 
I  observed  a  Colonel's  insignia  on  his  collar,  and  one  of 


52  PRISON   CAMPS. 

the  guard  whispered  me,  that  it  was  Colonel  Bates,  the 
commanding  officer  at  Brashear.  The  Colonel  marched 
Tip  to  me,  extended  his  hand,  and  with  grand  solemnity, 
in  keeping  with  his  dignified  bearing,  said : 

"  Colonel,  I  have  come  down  now  to  apologize  for  not 
having  waited  upon  you  before.  I  ought  to  have  done 
so,  sir — I  ought  to  have  done  so.  But  I  have  been  over- 
occupied.  I  pray  you  to  excuse  me,  sir." 

When  I  consider  our  difference  in  years,  and  the  dif- 
ferent circumstances  that  surrounded  each,  I  do  not  know 
of  any  incident  that  could  have  pleased  me  more  than 
this  stately  courtesy  of  the  old  Colonel.  An  interesting 
conversation  followed,  in  which  I  learnt  that  he  was  an 
Alabamian  by  birth.  He  spoke  highly  of  the  Texan 
character,  which,  he  said,  excelled  in  bravery  and  sim- 
plicity ;  but  he  warned  me  that  the  country  could  iurnish 
few  comforts,  such,  he  said,  as  Northerners  have  at  home. 
Then,  when  the  boat  was  ready  to  start,  he  called  up  the 
officer  of  the  guard,  and  said  to  him  : 

"  Captain,  your  orders  are  strict,  I  know ;  but  these 
gentlemen  are  invalids ;  they  are  too  weak  to  escape, 
.sir.  You  must  construe  your  orders  liberally,  sir,  in 
favor  of  the  sick.  Do  not  let  the  guard  trouble  these 
gentlemen,  and  make  them  as  comfortable  as  you  can." 

There  was  another  Colonel  who  succeeded  Colonel 
Bates,  at  Brashear  ;  he  was  a  citizen  of  a  New  England 
State,  and  had  been  an  ice  merchant  in  New  Orleans. 
When  the  war  came,  he  went,  not  "  with  his  State"  but 
with  his  property.  All  the  indignities,  ill-treatment, 


THE   WILD  TEXANS.  53 

meanness  and  cruelty  that  we  met  with  at  Brashear  and 
Franklin,  came  directly  from  him.  "While  the  real 
Southern  officers  were  showing  us  unsought  kindness 
and  attention — while  they  were  overlooking  what  they 
sincerely  believed  to  be  the  needless  ruin  of  their  homes, 
and  the  wanton  destruction  of  their  property,  this  mis- 
erable Northern  renegade  was  bullying  Northern  ladies 
— "  bucking  and  gagging  "  unfortunate  prisoners,  and 
sending  sick  and  wounded  officers  out  of  the  hospital  by 
orders  as  cowardly  as  they  were  cruel. 

The  Franklin  Hospital  had  been  the  "Franklin  House" 
before  the  war,  and  stood  close  beside  the  bayou.  Lieu- 
tenant Stevenson  was  placed  in  the  wounded  ward,  and 
the  rest  of  us  were  assigned  three  pleasant  rooms  in 
a  wing  of  the  building.  Our  guard  consisted  of  a  cor- 
poral, named  Ingram,  and  six  men  of  Colonel  Bates' 
regiment.  They  bivouacked  on  the  piazza,  and  com- 
pleted our  confusion  as  to  what  Wild  Texans  are.  They 
did  not  drink ;  they  did  not  swear ;  they  did  not  gam- 
ble. They  were  watchful  of  us,  but  did  everything 
kindly  and  with  a  willingness  that  greatly  lessened  our 
feeling  of  dependence. 

The  surgeon  in  charge  of  the  hospital,  Dr.  Marten, 
was  polite  and  kind.  A  stylish  little  French  lieutenant 
of  the  10th  Louisiana,  named  Solomon,  was  assiduous  in 
his  attentions.  He  detailed  a  contraband  as  our  especial 
servant ;  hourly  sent  us  little  presents,  in  the  "way  of 
fruit  and  refreshments,  and  paid  us  those  easy,  chatty 
visits,  that  Frenchmen  pay  so  much  better  than  any 


54  PRISON  CAMPS. 

other  men.  There  was  a  sort  of  Dutch  Major-Domo, 
one  Schneider,  who  took  us  under  his  special  protection, 
blowing  up  the  cook  and  scolding  the  waiter,  on  our  be- 
half, a  dozen  times  a  day.  There  was  also  a  sergeant  of 
the  Crescent  regiment — a  soldier  and  disciplinarian,  but 
easy  and  communicative  toward  us.  Lastly,  there  was 
our  contraband,  bearing  the  name  of  Ben,  and  very 
sharp  and  shrewd  was  he,  and  never  wanting  in  good- 
humor  or  flourishing  obeisances. 

The  ladies  of  Franklin  flocked  to  the  hospital,  bringing 
fruit  and  flowers,  and  knick-knacks  of  their  own  prepar- 
ing. They  differed  considerably  with  the  doctors  on 
questions  of  diet;  and  did  about  as  much  damage,  in 
their  pretty  way,  as  patriotic  young  ladies  have  done  in 
other  than  Confederate  hospitals.  They  carefully  avoided 
the  cot  of  the  solitary  Yankee  prisoner  in  the  wounded 
ward ;  the  well-bred  passing  it  by  as  though  the  slight 
were  casual,  and  the  ill-bred,  showing  with  studied  care, 
that  it  was  intentional.  The  "Wild  Texans  who  had  cap- 
tured us  shared  not  in  these  patriotic  manifestations. 
They,  on  the  contrary,  divided  with  Lieutenant  Steven- 
son whatever  they  received,  looked  after  him  as  though 
he  were  a  brother  soldier,  and,  once  or  twice,  asked  their 
fair  visitors  rather  angrily,  why  they  didn't  give  this  or 
that  to  that  gentleman  on  the  fourth  cot.  Yet  it  must 
not  be  supposed  that  this  conduct  of  the  Franklin  fair 
proceeded  entirely  from  their  own  wicked  imaginings. 
The  women,  like  the  men  of  the  South,  are  all  slaves  of 
public  opinion.  After  awhile  one  lady,  giving  way  to 


THE  WILD  TEXANS.  55 

the  natural  kindness  of  her  nature,  stopped  at  the 
prisoner's  cot,  and  then  the  others  followed  the  example. 
The  presents  flowed  in  with  a  free  hand,  and  the  sails 
once  fairly  round  on  this  tack,  the  wind  seemed  to  blow 
as  strongly  from  the  chivalric  quarter  as  it  had  pre- 
viously blown  from  the  patriotic. 

This  narrative  would  not  be  truthful  if  I  omitted 
therefrom  a  statement  of  the  fare,  during  our  fortnight  in 
the  Franklin  hospital.  It  was  so  much  better  than  I  had 
expected ;  so  much  better  than  I  had  supposed  it  possi- 
ble that  prisoners  could  receive  at  rebel  hands ;  so  differ- 
ent from  the  fare  which  we  knew  was  to  follow,  that  I 
carefully  noted  down  the  bill  on  several  days,  and  from 
these  select  a  favorable  specimen. 

"  Wednesday,  July  15.  AT  SUNKISE. — French  Coffee 
and  Biscuits. 

"BKEA.KFAST. — Beef  Steak,  Beef  Stew,  Cucumbers, 
Stewed  Peaches,  Melons,  French  Bread,  Biscuits,  Toast 
and  Tea. 

"  DINNER. — Soup,  Eoast  Beef,  Beef  a  la  mode,  Cucum- 
bers, Egg  Plant,  Lima  Beans,  French  Bread,  Biscuits, 
Tea." 

This  easy  prison-life,  however,  received  a  jog,  in  the 
shape  of  an  officer  of  Speight's  Battalion  of  Texas  Cav- 
alry. He  was  introduced  to  us  as  Lieutenant  Geo.  C. 
Duncan,  and  he  bore  orders  to  carry  us  to  Niblett's 
Bluff,  on  the  Sabine.  It  appeared  therefrom  that  we 
were  to  be  moved  to  the  southern  side  of  Texas,  and  not 
to  follow  the  officers  captured  with  us. 


56  PRISON   CAMPS. 

The  orders  were,  to  carry  all  the  prisoners  at  the  hos- 
pital to  Niblett's  Bluff ;  but  when  the  officer  saw  Lieu- 
tenant Stevenson,  and  heard  the  surgeon's  statement,  he 
sent  down  a  special  report  from  the  surgeon,  and  waited 
for  further  orders.  In  the  meanwhile,  our  polite  French 
friend,  Lieutenant  Solomon,  drove  Mrs.  Stratford  to 
New  Iberia,  and  we  awaited,  with  some  anxiety,  our 
departure,  and  discussed  the  probabilities  of  marching 
through,  or  giving  out  by  the  way. 


THE   MARCH.  57 


IV. 

THE    MARCH. 

IT  was  Sunday  morning,  about  sunrise,  when  Lieuten- 
ant Duncan  appeared  at  the  door,  and  informed  us  that 
we  must  start  immediately.  There  was  an  instantaneous 
springing  up — a  hurried  toilet — a  rapid  rolling  of  blan- 
kets, and  a  hastily-snatched  breakfast  of  bread  and  coffee. 
I  remarked,  with  more  unconcern  in  my  manner  than  I 
really  felt,  that  I  supposed  Lieutenant  Stevenson  would 
remain.  The  lieutenant's  countenance  fell,  and,  look- 
ing another  way,  he  said,  nervously,  "  Orders  have  come 
to  move  all  immediately,  and  I  have  no  alternative." 
It  was  my  unpleasant  task,  therefore,  to  go  down  and 
announce  to  the  wounded  officer  that  he  must  go.  In 
addition  to  his  painful  wound,  he  was  suffering  from  an 
attack  of  fever.  His  exhausted  appearance  frightened 
me,  though  I  talked  quite  boldly  of  the  good  effects 
of  change  of  air,  and  the  advantages  of  continuing 
with  us. 

A  clumsy  plantation  wagon  rumbled  to  the  door,  and 
the  new  guard,  mounted  on  wild-looking  Texan  horses, 
drew  up  around  it.  The  old  guard,  like  good  fellows, 
helped  us  quite  cordially  in  carrying  out  our  baggage ; 
and  they  shook  hands  and  bade  us  good  bye,  with  a 

3* 


58  PRISON   CAMPS. 

warmth  that  savored  much  less  of  rebel  enemies  than  of 
countrymen  and  friends.  Some  newly  arrived  prisoners 
were  brought  from  the  Court  House,  and  we  started. 
As  we  moved  off,  one  of  them  seized  me  by  the  hand 
with  many  expressions  of  surprise.  At  first  I  did  not 
recognize  him,  but,  after  a  moment,  discovered  that  he 
was  Captain  Frederick  Yan  Tine,  of  my  former  regi- 
ment, and  learnt  that  he,  with  two  Massachusetts  officers, 
was  captured  on  the  Mississippi,  and,  for  the  last  week, 
had  been  confined  in  the  jail  at  Thiboudeau. 

Up  the  main  street  of  Franklin  we  inarched  two  by  two, 
the  guard  strung  along  on  each  side,  their  rifles  unslnng 
and  their  eyes  watching  us,  as  if  they  somewhat  feared 
an  immediate  escape.  The  loafers  of  Franklin  of  course 
turned  out  to  stare  at  us,  and  made  remarks  rarely  com- 
plimentary ;  the  women  looked  at  us  from  the  door-steps 
as  we  passed,  some  triumphantly,  and  a  few  in  pity. 
At  the  head  of  this  inglorious  procession  it  was  my  place 
to  walk ;  but  the  new  prisoners  revealed  the  hitherto 
concealed  news,  and  I  felt  proud  and  happy  over  the  long 
delayed  result  of  Yicksburg  and  Port  Hudson. 

Beside  our  own  party,  and  the  three  officers  from  the 
Mississippi,  were  a  number  of  "  citizen  prisoners,"  and 
and  unfortunate  deserter  whom  they  had  caught  at 
Brashear.  Of  these  civilians,  a  dozen  were  Irishmen, 
and  they  immediately  placed  themselves  at  the  head  of 
the  column,  and  proceeded  to  walk  and  talk  with  a  zeal 
that  nobody  attempted  to  equal.  A  move  is  always  ani- 
mating, even  when  it  is  toward  captivity;  but  our 


THE   MARCH.  59 

excitement  was  short-lived.  Hardly  had  we  passed 
from  the  shadow  of  the  town,  when  the  convalescents 
felt  the  effect  of  the  burning,  fever-kindling  sun.  It 
was  a  serious  business  for  some  of  us.  One  hundred 
and  eighty  miles  distant  flowed  the  Sabine,  and  we  were 
to  march  there,  over  open  prairies  and  in  the  middle 
of  the  Southern  summer. 

Before  a  mile  was  travelled  over,  I  could  see  the  effect 
of  the  fearful  heat  in  others,  and  feel  it  on  myself. 
Faces  grew  flushed ;  coats  were  stripped  off,  and  the 
perspiration  poured  in  streams.  Yet  it  was  a  matter  of 
honor  not  to  give  up.  For  my  own  part,  I  was  smarting 
with  mortification  at  the  disgrace  of  Brashear,  and 
resolved,  and  re  resolved,  to  walk  till  I  fell  dead,  before 
one  of  these  Southern  soldiers  should  say  that  a  Yankee 
Colonel  had  given  out. 

At  the  head  of  the  guard  rode  a  good-looking  young 
fellow,  tall  and  sinewy,  and  with  the  merriest  face  I 
have  ever  seen  in  a  Southerner.  I  had  some  doubts,  at 
first,  whether  he  was  a  private  or  a  Captain,  but  found 
that  he  was  a  corporal.  He  was  mounted  on  a  compact 
little  bay,  called,  in  Texas,  a  pony ;  a  long  revolver  was 
stuck  in  his  belt ;  a  lariat  rope  loosely  coiled  hung  on 
the  saddle-bow ;  his  bright  Springfield  rifle  was  balanced 
across  the  pommel,  and  with  his  broad  hat  and  heavy, 
jangling  Spanish  spurs,  he  formed  a  brilliant  picture  of 
a  Wild  Texan.  As  some  little  changes  and  arrange- 
ments were  wanting  and  the  lieutenant  was  not  in  sight, 
I  addressed  myself-  to  the  corporal,  and  asked  if  he 


60  PRISON   CAMPS. 

would  order  a  halt  for  a  moment.  "  Why  to  be  sure  I 
will,"  was  his  very  ready  reply,  followed  up  with  the 
order,  "Now,  halt  here,  men,  and  let  these  prisoners 
put  their  little  tricks  on  the  wagon  ;  there  is  no  need  of 
their  packing  them." 

We  took  advantage  of  the  halt  to  lash  some  sticks  to 
the  sides  of  the  wagon  and  to  spread  upon  them  our 
blankets,  so  as  to  form  an  awning  over  Lieutenant  Ste- 
venson. But  the  sun  beat  down  hotter  and  hotter.  At 
the  next  halt,  one  of  us  took  a  canteen  from  the  end  of 
the  wagon — the  water  was  hot,  so  incredibly  hot  that 
the  others  were  called  up  to  feel  it,  and  all  agreed  that 
its  heat  was  painful.  My  first  impression  was,  that  this 
intense  burning  heat  would  blister  us.  But  the  damp 
Louisiana  atmosphere  caused  floods  of  perspiration, 
pouring  over  the  exposed  face  and  hands,  and  soaking 
quickly  through  every  garment.  Faces  grew  more  and 
more  flushed ;  conversation  flagged  and  soon  ceased. 
Those  who,  at  the  beginning,  rattled  away  cheerfully, 
walked  in  moody  silence  near  each  other,  occasionally 
exchanging  distressed  looks,  but  rarely,  if  ever,  speaking 
a  word. 

About  mid-day  the  expected  shower  of  the  rainy  sea- 
son came  down  on  us  furiously.  We  drew  up  under 
some  trees,  and  stood  close  against  the  leeward  side  of 
their  trunks,  until  it  blew  over.  The  different  charac- 
teristics of  the  three  parties  who  were  gathered  there 
immediately  developed.  The  Irishmen  laughed,  hull  a- 
baloed,  pushed  each  other  out  in  the  rain,  and  treated 


THE   MARCH.  61 

the  affair  as  a  capital  joke.  The  Northerners  shifted 
their  positions,  and  attempted  improvements,  while  the 
rain  was  at  the  worst — grumbled  a  great  deal,  and 
hurled  fierce  denunciations  at,  what  they  called,  their 
"  luck."  The  Southerners  silently  unrolled  their  "blan- 
kets, folded  them  around  their  shoulders,  looked  upward 
.at  the  storm  with  their  usual  sad  indifference  of  expres- 
sion, made  no  attempts  to  better  their  condition,  and 
waited  apathetically  till  it  was  over. 

A  prairie  spread  out  for  several  miles  immediately 
beyond  our  sheltering  trees,  and  the  road  curved  around 
its  outskirts.  It  was  a  prairie,  but  a  tame  one ;  inter- 
spersed with  fields;  pastured  by  cattle;  surrounded  by 
houses,  and  looking  like  any  dull,  uninteresting  plain. 
Its  grass,  however,  was  thick  and  wet,  and  its  sticky 
black  mud  soon  loaded  our  boots  and  almost  glued  us 
fast.  The  coolness  of  the  air  quickly  vanished,  and  the 
sun,  more  burning  than  ever,  re-appeared.  We  dragged 
on  wearily,  very  wearily,  casting  wistful  glances  at  the 
grove  on  the  other  side,  which  rose  very  slowly,  and,  for 
a  long  time,  seemed  as  distant  as  when  we  started.  At 
last,  however,  we  manifestly  drew  nearer  ;  the  chimneys 
of  a  house  could  be  distinguished  in  the  foliage,  and  the 
guard  cheered  us  with  the  assurance  that  it  was  the 
house  at  which  we  were  to  halt.  Every  one  made  a 
last  effort,  and  after  half  an  hour's  exertion,  we  dragged 
ourselves  out  of  the  muddy  prairie  and  into  a  plantation 
yard,  bordering  on  the  Teche. 

We  sat  there  waiting  for  the  wagon,  and  watching  a 


62  PRISON   CAMPS. 

small  drove  of  hogs  that  had  come  down  the  bank  of 
the  bayou,  and,  half  immersed,  were  greedily  eating  the 
green  scum  that  covered  the  water.  The  lieutenant  had 
bought  provisions  at  the  house,  and  hired  the  contra- 
bands to  cook  for  us.  The  dinner  finally  appeared,  con- 
sisting of  a  large  kettle  of  boiled  beef,  and  a  quantity  of 
corn  bread  in  the  shape  of  little  rolls.  It  did  not  impress 
us  favorably ;  but  the  guard  seemed  to  think  it  excel- 
lent— perhaps  because  boiled  beef  was  a  rarity — perhaps 
because  the  corn  bread  was  a  superior  article,  (I  was  not 
a  judge  of  it  then) ;  and  one,  with  charming  sim- 
plicity, said,  "  If  we  do  as  well  as  this,  it  will  do !"  To 
which  rhapsody  one  of  my  disgusted  friends  was  obliged 
to  respond,  with  a  faint  and  sickly  smile,  "  Yes,  yes;  it 
is  very  nice." 

The  place  of  bivouac  that  night  was  in  the  grass-cov- 
ered yard,  or  rather  field,  of  one  of  the  finest  plantations 
on  the  Teche.  The  owner  soon  appeared,  accompanied 
by  his  son,  his  son-in-law,  and  a  friend.  He  was  an  old 
gentleman,  dressed  with  the  scrupulous  taste  and  neat- 
ness of  a  Frenchman,  and  treated  us  with  as  much 
politeness  and  as  little  kindness  as  could  very  well  be 
united.  The  son-in-law  regaled  us  with  a  description  of 
the  manner  in  which  some  of  our  troops  had  plundered 
his  house,  and  burnt  his  furniture ;  and  the  friend  sat 
himself  down,  and  opened  with  the  invariable  remark, 
"We  consider  this  a  most  unnatural  war,  sir;"  which 
he  followed  up  with  the  invariable  question,  u  When  do 
you  think  there  will  be  peace,  sir?"  To  these  I  gave 


THE  MAEOH.  63 

my  invariable  replies,  that  we  also  thought  it  a  most  un- 
natural war,  and  that  there  would  be  peace  whenever 
the  Southern  soldiers  chose  to  go  home  and  take  care  of 
their  own  affairs.  The  gentleman  seemed  very  much 
disgusted  at  the  idea  of  having  peace  on  such  simple  and 
easy  terms,  and  said  solemnly,  that  he  couldn't  allow 
himself  to  believe  it. 

There  was  a  large  open  shed  beside  us,  but  the  ground 
was  covered  with  fleas,  and  we  preferred  the  wet  grass 
and  heavy  dew  of  a  Louisiana  night,  to  these  pests  of  a 
tropical  climate.  But  few  slept  well.  For  a  long  time 
I  felt  too  tired  to  close  my  eyes,  and  awoke  repeatedly, 
aching  in  every  part.  When  daylight  dawned  we  rose 
so  stiff  and  sore  that  we  could  hardly  move,  and  with 
renewed  apprehensions  made  ready  for  another  day. 
Lieutenant  Stevenson  showed  such  increased  exhaustion 
that  the  Confederate  officer  took  me  aside  and  said,  that 
he  would  not  be  guilty  of  carrying  him  beyond  New 
Iberia. 

"We  started,  not  at  daylight,  as  was  intended,  but  a 
long  time  after  the  sun  was  up.  With  all  such  parties 
there  are  many  petty  causes  of  delay,  and  it  requires  an 
iron-handed  commander  to  bear  them  down,  and  carry 
his  party  off  at  th£  appointed  hour.  Lieutenant  Duncan 
was  too  good-natured  for  this,  and  instead  of  coercing  us, 
he,  on  the  contrary,  told  us  to  choose  our  own  time,  and 
not  to  start  till  we  were  ready.  The  delay  brought 
down  the  burning  sun  again  upon  us,  and  the  pain  and 
weariness  of  this  second  day  much  exceeded  those  of  the 
first. 


64:  PBISOtf   CAMPS. 

As  we  thus  toiled  along,  the  road,  which  was  run- 
ning between  uninclosed  fields,  approached  a  tall  rail 
fence.  Three  or  four  of  us  were  walking  a  few  yards  in 
advance  of  the  guard,  when  we  heard  the  corporal  shout 
from  behind,  "Take  care  of  the  bull !  Take  care  of  the 
tnll !"  I  looked  ahead  and  saw  nothing  very  alarming: 
a  large  red  bull  was  drawing  himself  up,  and  lashing  his 
sides  with  his  tail.  After  a  moment  or  two,  however, 
he  started  toward  us,  shaking  his  head  and  breaking 
into  a  low,  deep  bellow.  He  was  a  magnificent  animal, 
with  long,  low,  spreading  horns,  and  moved  in  a  full, 
square  trot  that  many  a  horse  might  envy.  There  was 
a  scramble  at  once  for  the  fence  \vliich  stood  very  nearly 
midway  between  us  and  the  bull.  What  the  result 
might  have  been  I  think  somewhat  doubtful,  had  not  the 
gallant  corporal,  on  his  bright  little  bay,  rushed  past  us 
on  a  gallop.  The  pony  was  a  herding  pony  and  under- 
stood his  business.  Like  a  spirited  dog,  he  flew  straight 
at  the  bull  until  they  nearly  touched,  then  wheeling  he 
kept  alongside,  watching  him  closely  and  sheering  off 
whenever  the  long  horns  made  a  lunge  toward  himself. 
The  pony  did  this  of  his  own  accord,  for,  as  he  wheeled, 
his  rider  held  the  rifle  in  his  left  hand  and  was  drawing 
the  long  revolver  with  his  right,  and  these  Texan  horses 
are  rarely  taught  to  wheel  from  the  pressure  of  the  leg. 
A  finer  picture  of  intelligent  instinct  than  this  pony  pre- 
sented could  hardly  be  painted  :  his  ears  erect,  his  eyes 
flashing,  and  his  whole  soul  in  the  chase.  The  corporal 
was  not  slower  than  his  horse.  He  brought  the  long  re- 
volver up ;  a  shot  flashed,  and  the  poor  beast  received  a 


THE   MAECH.  65 

heavy  wound.  This  diverted  his  attention  from  us,  for, 
with  a  loud  bellow,  he  wheeled  toward  the  corporal. 
But  the  pony's  eye  was  on  him,  and,  quicker  than  spur 
or  rein  could  make  him,  he  also  wheeled,  and  scoured  off 
across  the  plain  faster  than  any  bull  could  go.  The  cor- 
poral brought  up  the  rifle,  and  there  was  a  second  flash 
— a  second  wound,  for  the  bull  staggered,  and  then 
walked  slowly  and  proudly  away.  Occasionally  he 
stopped,  turned  defiantly  round,  uttered  deep  bellowings, 
and  shook  at  us  his  splendid  horns. 

The  incident  afforded  us  a  little  excitement,  and  led 
me  into  a  conversation  with  the  corporal,  who  narrated 
anecdotes  of  the  wonderful  intelligence  of  herding 
ponies.  The  heat,  the  dust,  the  glarjng  sun,  and  increas- 
ing pain  and  weariness  at  length  stopped  even  a  conver- 
sation on  so  interesting  a  topic  as  horses  are  and  ever 
will  be,  and  I  was  fain  to  drag  myself  along  without 
expending  an  ounce  of  strength  on  any  object  beyond 
the  dusty  road.  "We  entered  upon  the  last  two  miles, 
and  saw  Iberia  in  the  distance.  The  road  ran  between 
hedges  twenty  feet  high — it  was  filled  with  a  long 
column  of  dust — not  a  breath  of  outer  air  disturbed  it, 
and  the  sun  shone  directly  down  from  his  noon-day 
height.  I  felt  myself  grow  weaker  and  weaker  as  we 
advanced  through  this  green  boiler.  The  perspiration 
poured  into  my  eyes  and  blinded  me — my  head  whirled 
round — my  feet  stumbled  and  dragged,  so  that  every 
step  seemed  almost  the  last.  While  in  this  critical  state,  a 
couple  of  pretty  Louisiana  "  young  ladies  "  stopped  their 


66  PEISON   CAMPS. 

carriage,  and  greatly  refreshed  me  by  expressing  the 
hope  that  we  should  be  hung  at  the  end  of  the  lane,  and 
the  opinion  that  hanging  was  quite  as  good  treatment 
as  nigger-thieves  deserved.  Such  was  the  power  of  this 
well-timed  stimulus,  that  I  kept  on  for  more  than  a  mile, 
and  at  last  found  that  I  was  in  the  midst  of  the  little 
town  of  New  Iberia. 

We  halted  in  the  shade  of  some  large  trees.  There* 
seemed  to  be  an  unusual  number  of  vagabonds  in  Xew 
Iberia,  who  congregated  closely  round  us,  and  asked 
impudent  questions  (generally  as  to  how  we  liked  the 
war  now),  until  it  occurred  to  our  guards  that  this  might 
be  annoying  to  us,  and  then  they  very  promptly  drove 
the  Iberian  loafers  back.  One  cowardly-looking,  black- 
eyed  little  rascal,  however,  was  very  desirous  of  finding 
an  officer  of  the  Twenty-first  Indiana  amongst  us  that 
he  might  kill  him,  and  repeatedly  hinted  that  he  had  a 
great  mind  to  kill  one  of  us  anyhow.  But  one  of  the 
guard  quieted  him  by  the  suggestion  that  if  he  wanted 
to  kill  a  Yank,  he'd  find  plenty  of  them  over  on  the 
Mississippi,  and  that  he'd  better  go  there  instead  of 
skulking  round  in  the  rear — anyhow,  he'd  better  stop 
insulting  prisoners,  or  he'd  have  a  right  smart  chance  to 
kill  a  Texan — dog-goned  if  he  wouldn't. 

Soon  after  this,  an  officer  of  the  Provost  Guard 
appeared.  The  roll  of  the  "  citizen  prisoners  "  was  called 
over,  and  all  but  six  marched  off  to  the  jail.  "We  were 
put  in  motion,  and  marched  to  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
where  we  halted  beside  a  saw-mill  standing  on  the  bank 


THE   MAECH.  67 

of  the  Teclie.  The  lieutenant  then  brought  a  surgeon, 
who  speedily  pronounced  in  favor  of  receiving  Lieutenant 
Stevenson,  and  directed  that  he  should  be  taken  at  once 
to  his  hospital. 

During  the  afternoon,  our  kind  and  courteous  French 
friend,  Lieutenant  Solomon,  appeared,  to  take  us  to  the 
hospital,  and  thence  to  his  own  house.  I  asked  Lieu- 
tenant Duncan  for  a  guard,  and  lie  politely  sent  one  of 
his  men  with  us.  One  of  my  officers  walked  with  me  to 
the  hospital.  It  was  in  a  church,  and  at  its  extreme  end 
we  found  Lieutenant  Stevenson.  He  looked  wretched, 
and  my  hopes  sank  as  I  saw  him.  The  church  was 
crowded  with  Confederate  sick,  and  he  was  the  only 
prisoner  there.  Yet  there  was  no  alternative.  We 
knew  that  if  he  were  carried  along,  a  sadder  parting 
would  soon  ensue.  Faintly  hoping  that  we  should 
again  see  hirn,  and  inwardly  praying  that  he  might  find 
the  friends  he  sorely  needed,  we  bade  him  farewell. 

The  French  lieutenant  rejoined  us  in  the  street,  and 
led  the  way  to  his  own  house.  He  wished,  he  said,  to 
present  us  to  Madame,  and  offer  us  some  slight  refresh- 
ment, which  was  not  good,  but  was  better  than  we 
might  enjoy  again.  We  soon  reached  his  house,  and 
were  presented  to  Madame, -who  received  us  with  the 
grace  and  politeness  of  a  French  lady.  The  slight 
refreshment,  doubtless,  was  preparing,  and  we  were 
comfortably  waiting  to  enjoy  it,  when  a  patriot  soldier 
of  the  Confederacy,  with  the  villainous  look  peculiar  to 
those  of  Louisiana,  stuck  his  gun  and  then  his  head  in 
the  room,  and  said  sulkily,  that  the  Provost  Marshal 


68  PRISON   CAMPS. 

wanted  us.  Our  worthy  lieutenant  accompanied  us, 
saying,  "  Oh,  surely  it  must  be  a  mistake ;  somebody 
has  told  him  you  are  making  an  escape.  lie  will  let 
you  return  to  my  house,  and  you  shall  stay  all  the  after- 
noon." Arrived  at  the  Provost  Marshal's,  the  Louisiana 
patriot  left  us  on  the  sidewalk,  and  stepped  in  to  inform 
the  august  official  that  we  were  in  waiting.  That  mag- 
nate immediately  came  forth — a  youthful,  swarthy, 
small-sized,  unwashed  Louisianian,  with  a  consequential 
air,  and  a  vagabond  face.  "  Take  these  fellows  back  to 
your  camp,"  he  said,  addressing  our  Texan  guard.  "  I 
won't  have  prisoners  running  about  my  town."  As  he 
said  this,  he  honored  us  with  a  vicious  stare,  and  then 
banged  back  into  his  office. 

There  was  no  resisting  this  eloquence, '  so  back  we 
went.  Our  guard,  who  had  been  very  silent,  became 
very  talkative.  He  swore  pardonable  oaths  at  the 
Louisianians  in  general,  and  the  Provost  Marshal  in 
particular.  As  to  the  former,  he  said  they  were  all  a 
disgrace  to  the  South ;  and  as  to  the  latter,  that  if  ever 
he  got  a  chance,  he'd  scalj>  him — dog-gone  if  he  wouldn't. 
In  camp,  his  excitement  extended  to  the  rest.  Our  gal- 
lant friend,  the  corporal,  was  especially  indignant. 

"  What,"  he  said,  "  he  spoke  so  right  before  you, 
without  your  having  insulted  him.  The  dog-gone  little 
puppy.  If  I'd  been  there,  I'd  have  slapped  his  face-,  and 
then  run  for  Texas.  There's  just  such  ducks  everywhere, 
and  most  of  all  in  Louisiana.  Dog-gone  them — I'd  like 
to  shoot  the  whole  of  them." 

Our  wounded  honor  being  soothed  by  these  chivalric 


THE  MAECH.  69 

sentiments,  and  a  shower  of  rain  coming  up  about  the 
same  time,  we  retired  to  the  saw-mill,  where  we  selected 
soft  planks,  swept  away  the  saw-dust,  and  made  ready 
for  the  night.  About  dark,  Lieutenant  Duncan  returned, 
with  anger  and  mortification  glowing  in  his  face.  He 
had  not  been  able  to  get  fresh  mules  or  a  good  wagon, 
or  full  rations,  or  even  a  wagon  cover,  for  prisoner  s^  and 
he  was  vexed  and  wrathful  at  the  refusals  he  had  met. 
"I  tell  you  what  it  is,  though,  gentlemen,"  he  said, 
"  you  shall  be  taken  care  of,  and  have  the  best  this 
country  can  give  you,  if  I  take  it  out  of  their  houses 
with  my  revolver.  It's  not  so  in  Texas,  gentlemen. 
There  our  people  haven't  got  much,  but  they  will  give 
you  what  they  have."  In  fact,  the  good  lieutenant 
was  so  chagrined  and  mortified,  that  I  had  to  assure  him 
that  we  were  not  children,  and  would  rather  undergo  a 
little  extra  hardship,  than  put  him  to  further  trouble. 
But  while  affairs  were  gliding  in  this  harmonious  and 
humane  channel  within  the  saw-mill,  some  wicked  imp 
suggested  to  our  friend,  the  Provost  Marshal,  the  feasi- 
bility of  his  bestowing  on  ns  another  kick.  Hardly  had 
the  lieutenant  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  brow,  and 
looked  around  for  a  dry  plank  on  which  to  sleep,  when 
a  second  Louisiana  patriot,  dirtier  even  than  the  first, 
appeared.  He  delivered  an  order  to  the  lieutenant.  It 
was  to  pack  up  and  be  off  instantly — he,  the  Provost 
Marshal,  wouldn't  have  prisoners  camping  in  his  town 
over  night. 

We  accordingly  packed  up  and  went  off,  not  more 
than  a  hundred  yards  (for  the   saw-mill  was  on  the 


70  PRISON  CAMPS. 

boundary  of  the  town),  and  stopped  at  an  abandoned 
barn,  just  beyond  the  Provost  Marshal's  jurisdiction. 
The  barn  was  dirty — the  ground  around  it  muddy — the 
fleas  were  hale  and  hearty — and  these  little  circum- 
stances added  a  great  deal  of  force  to  the  thanks  which 
the  guard  lavished  on  the  Provost  Marshal.  Yet  we 
looked  forward  with  hopefulness  to  the  morrow,  for  then 
we  were  to  turn  off  from  the  Teche,  and  leaving  civili- 
zation and  the  hateful  Louisianians-  behind  us,  strike 
off,  undisturbed,  on  the  free  prairies. 


THE  PEAIBIES.  71 


V. 

THE    PKAIKIES. 

THE  road  ran,  for  several  miles,  between  hedges  and 
among  plantations,  and  close  to  gardens  and  houses,  with 
their  fields  and  fences,  until  it  suddenly  emerged  on  a 
broad,  unbounded  prairie.  Our  guards'  eyes  sparkled 
when  they  saw  it,  and  they  declared  that  this  began  to 
look  like  Texas.  We  all  felt  better  at  the  sight,  and  the 
fresh  breeze  that  swept  over  it  almost  swept  away  the 
weary  weakness  of  the  previous  days.  There  is  a  pro- 
found sense  of  loneliness  and  littleness  on  these  great 
seas  of  green  far  exceeding  that  which  men  feel  in  for- 
ests. There  is  such  an  absence  of  objects — such  long 
distances  appearing  to  the  eye,  and  before  which  tho 
feet  grow  feeble — such  a  want  of  all  shelter  and  protec- 
tion, that  one  wishes  for  the  woods,  and  acknowledges  a 
companionship  in  hills  and  trees  beyond  all  that  he  has 
ever  known  before. 

A  long  noon- day  halt  was  made  at  a  Frenchman's, 
whose  wretched  shanty  stood  environed  by  a  beautiful 
grove  of  the  deep-shading  China  tree ;  and,  during  the 
afternoon,  we  found  the  prairie  interspersed  with  small 
plantations.  These  took  away  the  sense  of  loneliness, 


72  PRISON   CAMPS. 

and,  in  some  respects,  added  to  the  interest  of  the  march. 
There  was  a  good  stiff  breeze,  too,  blowing  directly  from 
the  west,  (to  which  we  travelled)  and  all  moved  cheer- 
fully along,  shaking  off  fatigue  and  forgetting,  for  the 
time,  that  we  were  prisoners.  As  the  sun  approached 
his  setting,  we  descended  by  a  gently  sloping  plain 
toward  a  wood  that  marks  and  hides  Yermillion  Bayou. 
While  it  was  still  a  mile  or  two  distant,  we  turned  from 
the  wagon-trail  and  made  our  way  across  the  prairie  to 
a  plantation,  whose  large  white  house  and  numerous 
out-buildings  peered  forth  from  a  grove  of  overhanging 
trees. 

The  plantation  was  owned  by  a  lady,  who  kindly 
allowed  her  servants  to  cook  our  supper,  and  gave  us 
her  lawn  to  bivouac  upon.  She  also  invited  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Stratford  to  occupy  a  room  in  her  house,  and 
showed  the  rare  good  taste  and  delicacy  of  not  coming 
out  to  stare  at  us.  We  found  ourselves  still  connected 
with  civilized  life;  for  supper  was  spread  out  hand- 
somely in  the  dining-room,  and  was  accompanied  by  the 
luxury  of  real  French  coffee,  served  in  delicate  china. 

We  started  earlier  than  usual  the  next  morning,  and 
Boon  crossed  the  strip  of  prairie  between  us  and  the  Yer- 
million. The  belt  of  wood  was  not  more  than  half  a  mile 
in  breadth,  and  near  its  farther  edge  we  found  a  narrow, 
sluggish  stream,  almost  bridged  by  the  ferry -scow,  yet 
deep  in  mud,  and  with  miry  banks  that  made  it  difficult 
to  cross.  As  we  waited  for  the  wagon  that  was  slowly 
rumbling  along,  we  discovered  below  the  ferry,  closely 


THE  PKAIEIES.  73 

drawn  up  against  the  bank  and  almost  hidden  by^the 
trees,  a  full  rigged  schooner,  that  had  eluded  the  watch- 
fulness of  our  blockaders,  and  escaped  the  eyes  of  our 
cavalry,  and  now  lay  snugly  waiting  for  the  proper  time 
to  glide  down  the  bayou  and  escape  on  the  open  sea. 

The  wagon  rolled  up  while  we  were  scanning  and 
discussing  the  little  blockade  runner,  and  we  began  our 
crossing.  It  was  not  a  labor  of  very  great  importance, 
for  when  one  end  of  the  scow  had  been  pushed  a  few* 
feet  from  the  eastern  bank,  the  other  end  ran  into  the 
western.  We  found  the  latter  much  higher  than  the 
former,  being,  in  Southern  phrase,  "  something  of  a 
bluff."  On  mounting  it,  we  saw  a  rolling  prairie  spread- 
ing out  like  a  lake  of  green,  and  enclosed  by  distant 
woods  which  seemed  its  shore.  The  "  timber,"  (as  for- 
ests in  the  West  are  called,)  was  four  or  five  miles  dis- 
tant on  either  side,  and,  to  the  front  of  us,  sank  down 
behind  the  far-off  horizon.  Numerous  herds  were  in 
sight ;  and  troops  of  young  cattle  would  draw  up  and 
stare  at  us.  They  were  not  the  "  fine  stock  "  of  our  good 
breeders;  yet,  still  were  beautiful  creatures — straight- 
backed,  fine-boned,  and  with  heads  gracefully  carried 
and  erect.  When  our  shouts  startled  them  into  motion, 
they  carried  themselves  off  with  the  same  high  horse-like 
trot  I  had  been  struck  with  in  our  bull  on  the  Teche,  and 
then,  breaking  into  an  easy  gallop,  bounded  away  like 
deer.  The  guards  repeatedly  warned  us  to  keep  near 
the  horsemen,  and  said,  that  these  cattle  of  the  prairies 
did  not  know  what  a  man  afoot  was,  and  were  tfo 

4 


74:  PRISON   CAMPS. 

wild  that  they  would  attack  us  if  we  ventured  near 
them. 

The  guard  had  been  improving  daily  since  we  left 
Franklin.  ~No  formal  parole  was  given  by  us,  yet  there 
was  an  informal  one  which  we  respected,  and  in  which 
they  placed  implicit  confidence.  They  behaved,  too, 
with  great  kindness,  constantly  dismounting  and  making 
first  one  and  then  another  of  us  ride.  Our  column 
broke  up  into  little  parties  of  twos  and  threes,  the  faster 
walkers  opening  gaps  on  those  who  took  it  more  leisurely, 
and  each  one  travelling  at  whatever  rate  he  best  liked. 
After  five  or  six  miles  of  this,  three  of  us,  with  a  like 
number  of  the  guard,  reached  a  little  house  that  stood 
alone  in  the  prairie.  The  guards  showed  their  appreci- 
ation of  our  honor,  by  handing  us  their  horses  and  rifles 
to  take  care  of  while  they  went  into  the  house.  After 
a  while  they  returned,  and  showed  their  appreciation  of 
our  appetites  by  bringing  us  a  pail  full  of  milk  for  a 
drink. 

We  watched  the  different  parties  that  dotted  the 
prairie  for  a  mile  or  two  behind  us,  until  they  severally 
came  up,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  their  faces  arid 
throwing  themselves  on  the  grass  beside  us.  The  wagon 
overtook  us  last,  and  then  we  rose  and  resumed  the 
march.  The  prairie  continued  to  present  the  same  rich 
picture  of  beautiful  seclusion.  Occasionally  its  timber- 
shores  approached  each  other,  and  sometimes  they 
opened  into  successive  lakes.  Yet,  with  all  this  beauty, 
we  found  ourselves  becoming  hot  and  weary.  There 


THE  PEAIRIES.  75 

were  no  way-side  trees  to  caot  an  occasional  shade,  and 
no  brooks  or  springs  at  which  to  halt  and  re-fill  canteens. 
The  usual  morning  breeze  that  sweeps  across  the  prairies, 
as  across  the  sea,  went  down,  and  wistful  eyes  were 
thrown  at  a  distant  plantation  which  we  saw  embowered 
in*  trees.  Where  the  road  to  this  cool  retreat  branched 
off,  Lieutenant  Duncan  ordered  a  halt,  and  then,  with  his 
usual  kindness,  asked  us  to  decide  whether  we  would  go 
to  the  plantation  and  rest  till  evening,  or  push  on  and 
finish  our  day's  work  before  we  halted.  There  was  some 
little  difference  of  opinion.  Certain  thirsty  individuals, 
who  kept  up  a  constant  sucking  at  their  canteens, 
declared  that  they  were  nearly  choked,  notwithstanding 
the  three  pints  of  water  each  had  swallowed;  others, 
who  had  drunk  nothing  since  we  started,  were  in  favor 
of  pushing  on.  It  ended  in  the  lieutenant  sending  one 
of  his  men,  laden  with  canteens,  to  the  plantation,  and 
in  our  resuming  the  march. 

The  Texan  put  his  "  pony"  on  the  easy  amble,  which,  is 
the  leading  trait  of  a  Southern  horse,  and  struck  off  in 
a  straight  line  toward  the  distant  house.  "We  could  see 
the  horse  and  rider  gradually  sinking  in  the  prairie  as 
they  receded  from  us,  until  not  much,  could  be  discerned 
beside  the  wide-brimmed  Texan  hat.  There  was  a  little 
interval,  and  then  horse  and  rider  re-appeared,  striking 
off  at  an  angle  which  would  intercept  our  line  of  march, 
and  travelling  on  the  same  easy  amble.  The  horses  of 
the  Texans,  I  must  confess,  had  greatly  disappointed  me. 
Half  of  them  were  miserable,  ill-shaped  ponies,  which 


76  PRISON   CAMPS. 

could  never  have  made  or  withstood  a  charge,  and  were 
unworthy  of  the  name  of  cavalry  horses.  And  yet  these 
mounted  troops  of  the  Confederates  have  shown  a  won- 
derful readiness  and  swiftness  of  movement,  which  have 
often  outwitted  our  generals  and  eluded  our  strategy, 
and  that  too,  in  a  country  where  our  horses  would  have 
starved.  This  great  "  mobility  "  I  ascribe,  in  part,  to  the 
ambling  gait  (forbidden  in  our  service)  which  carries 
them  along  some  five  miles  an  hour,  without  strain  to 
the  horse  or  fatigue  to  the  rider  ;  and,  in  part,  to  the  free 
use  of  the  lariat,  which  enables  the  horse  to  graze  at 
every  momentary  halt.  Man  and  horse  understood  this 
latter  principle,  for  the  former  never  dismounted  with- 
out twitching  off  the  bridle,  and  the  latter  never  stopped 
without  industriously  picking  up  his  living.  In  one  re- 
spect the  Texans  are  careless  of  their  horses,  tearing  off 
the  saddles  the  moment  they  halt,  and  never  dreaming 
of  cold  water  either  as  a  preventive  or  a  cure  of  the  sore 
back  that  tortures  nearly  every  horse. 

"While  I  was  making  these  reflections,  our  column  had 
stretched  out  in  its  usual  manner,  and  then  broken  into 
small  groups :  these  separated  more  and  more  as  we  ad- 
vanced. The  guards  told  us  that  Turtle-Tail  Bayou  was 
to  be  our  camping  ground,  and  they  pointed  to  the  tim- 
ber, which  looked  like  a  low  cloud  along  the  horizon. 
How  long  this  cloud  was  in  changing  into  trees,  and  how 
slowly  these  trees  rose  i-n  view,  no  one  can  imagine  who 
has  not  travelled  afoot  upon  the  prairies.  The  sun  sent 
down  his  usual  burning  rays  as  he  approached  the  ine- 


THE   DAIRIES.  7? 

ridian,  and  a  damp  stifling  heat  rose  from  the  grass. 
Yet  it  is  a  great  thing  to  be  first  in  camp,  and  able 
thereby  to  choose  your  own  tree,  and  label  it  "  TAKEN," 
by  pitching  your  haversack  at  its  foot,  and  to  lie  down 
and  rest  ere  the  slow  walkers  arrive.  So  the  two  or 
three  of  us  who  led  pushed  on.  The  trees  came  slowly 
more  and  more  into  view ;  the  branches  imperceptibly 
rose  ;  the  grass  beneath  them  appeared.  -  Then  the  cor- 
poral and  his  men  left  us  and  rode  on  to  select  the  camp- 
ing ground.  \Ye  followed  slowlier  on  their  trail,  keep- 
ing our  eyes  upon  them  until  we  saw  them  dismount 
where  timber  and  prairie  met — unsaddle  and  turn  loose 
their  horses,  the  welcome  signs  of  our  coming  rest.  The 
sight  gave  vigor  to  our  halting  feet — on,  on,  without  a 
stop,  though  it  was  two  miles,  as  the  bird  flies,  to  the 
nearest  tree.  On,  on,  until  panting  and  streaming,  I 
tear  oif  my  hat  and  haversack  and  drop  them,  with  my- 
self, at  the  foot  of  a  spreading  oak. 

There  is  no  rest  like  that  which  comes  after  such 
exercise.  I  see  again  the  little  groups  drawing  nearer 
across  the  prairie ;  coming  in  with  sun-tinted  faces  and 
dripping  brows ;  speaking  no  words,  unless  a  few  tired 
monosyllables;  casting  quick  glances  round  for  some 
smooth,  shaded  spot  of  turf,  then  walking  there  and 
dropping  down.  And  last  of  all,  the  heavy,  lumbering 
wagon  rumbling  up ;  its  tired  passengers  jolted,  and 
jaded,  and  cross,  and  broiled,  yet  still  willing  to  find, 
with  particular  care,  a  spot  that  pleases  them,  whilst  the 
teamster  pulls  the  clattering  harness  from  the  mules, 


78  PRISON   CAMPS. 

turns  them  loose  upon  the  prairie,  and,  like  the  others, 
sinks  down  to  silence  and  repose. 

Hour  upon  hour  thus  passed,  partly  in  sleep  and 
partly  in  a  dreamy  languor  of  delicious  rest.  Then  came 
a  little  restlessness  and  glances  at  the  sun — then  the  blue 
smoke  of  a  fresh-kindled  camp-fire,  and  assertions  that 
A.  and  B.  had  risen,  and  were  preparing  (for  themselves) 
the  one  important  meal.  When  such  assertions  had  been 
repeated  twice  or  thrice  around  me,  the  ground,  which 
at  first  was  softer  than  down,  began  to  grow  hard,  and 
withal  somewhat  knobby.  I  arose,  and  went  with  Lieu- 
tenant Sherman  to  find  the  bayou.  It  was  a  stagnant 
bed  of  polywogs,  not  ten  feet  wide  nor  ten  inches  deep. 
Crawling  out  on  a  log,  nevertheless,  and  skimming  off  the 
green,  slimy  scum,  we  dipped  up  the  water  and  enjoyed, 
as  we  had  seldom  enjoyed  before,  the  luxury  of  a  bath. 
Returning  to  the  camp-fire,  we  found  that  the  guards, 
mindful  of  their  prisoners'  more  tired  condition,  were 
baking  "  dodgers"  for  all  hands,  and  that  the  "  dodgers" 
were  nearly  done. 

One  of  us  quickly  clambered  into  the  wagon,  and.  cut 
from  the  side  of  bacon  a  couple  of  slices,  while  the  other 
sharpened  two  slender  sticks.  The  bacon,  skewered  on 
these,  was  speedily  toasted  over  the  fire.  A  slice  of 
"  dodger"  took  the  place  of  plates  and  dishes ;  our 
pocket-knives  were  also  spoons  and  forks  ;  and  yet  this 
Texan  supper  in  the  open  air,  cooked  by  oneself,  and 
eaten  after  a  twenty  mile  march  and  a  twelve  hour  fast, 
is  as  delicious  a  meal  as  was  ever  served.  The  blan- 


THE   PKAIRIES.  79 

kets  were  spread  ere  the  dew  fell.  "We  lay  gazing  on 
the  stars,  smoked  lazily,  and  talked  of  to-morrow's  march, 
till  it  grew  dark.  To  me  this  camp  brought  back  all 
the  interest  of  an  old  cavalry  bivouac  with  some  of  its 
most  unpleasant  parts  left  out.  The  sense  of  responsi- 
bility was  now  gone.  I  had  no  anxiety  or  duty  beyond 
that  of  taking  care  of  myself.  There  were  no  guards 
for  me  to  post ;  no  pickets  to  visit ;  no  rounds  to  make, 
and  no  prisoners  to  watch. 

Again  the  blankets  were  rolled — the  bacon  toasted — 
the  dodger  divided,  and  a  cup  of  tea  made.  Of  tired 
nature's  sweet  restorer,  English  breakfast  tea — so  much 
perverted  and  abused  in  civilized  life — we  had  a  little 
canister,  and  wondrous  were  the  works  which  that  little 
canister  performed.  Its  few  ounces  of  simple-looking 
herb — so  light — so  portable — so  bulkless,  seemed  to  con- 
tain strength  sufficient  for  an  army.  Those  who  sipped 
it,  though  weary  and  faint,  grew  strong  and  cheer- 
ful :  those  who  disliked  it  at  home,  confessed  that  it 
tasted  like  nectar  on  the  march.  Ere  the  last  sip  was 
taken,  the  corporal  mounted  the  wagon  and  said,  "  Now, 
gentlemen,  please  to  pack  along  your  little  tricks."  The 
"little  tricks"  were  safely  stowed  by  the  gallant  cor- 
poral, on  top  of  the  rations ;  the  sick  and  lame  were 
stowed  on  top  of  them ;  Mrs.  Stratford  took  the  seat  re- 
served for  her;  the  well  "fell  in,"  and  again  we 
started. 

The  road  crossed  the  timber-belt,  and  emerged  on 
a  lake-like  prairie.  It  was  that  hour  when  the  soft  light 


SO  PRISON    CAMPS. 

of  the  morning  heightened  the  peculiar  beauty  which 
this  march  revealed.  The  rising  sun  gilded  the  tree- 
tops  beside  us,  and  tinged  the  soft  expanse  before.  The 
herds  were  moving  slowly ;  some  so  near  that  we  could 
hear  the  sullen  bellow  of  the  bulls ;  and  some  so  distant 
that  we  could  see  only  their  long  horns  moving  above  the 
green,  looking  like  wild  fowl  floating  on  the  surface  of 
the  grassy  sea.  The  prairie  rose  and  fell  in  occasional 
swells,  the  distant  timber  swept  around  it  in  the  grace- 
ful windings  of  a  serpentine  shore,  and  islets  of  trees 
waved  upon  the  bosom  of  this  green  and  wood-bound 
lake. 

Before  the  morning  passed,  I  had  an  illustration 
of  a  folly  which  pervades  our  army.  The  guards  had 
warned  us  that  it  was  sixteen  miles  across  this  prairie, 
and  until  it  should  be  crossed,  we  should  find  no  water. 
Every  canteen  was  therefore  filled,  as  was  a  two-gallon 
keg  that  had  followed  me  through  the  lines.  Several 
years  ago,  Lieutenant-Colonel  Frederick  Townsend,  of 
the  Eighteenth  United  States  Infantry,  in  recounting  to 
me  his  sufferings  while  crossing  the  Gila  desert,  had  laid 
great  stress  upon  the  fact,  that  during  the  journey  he 
had  made  it  a  rule  to  go  without  drinking  till  he  halted 
for  the  night.  Remembering  this  when  I  entered  the 
army,  I  subjected  myself  to  like  discipline,  drinking  only 
when  I  ate.  A  single  week  made  this  a  habit,  and  left 
me  comparatively  comfortable  and  independent.  On 
this  morning,  I  accordingly  loaned  my  canteen  to  some 
one  foolish  enough  to  need  it,  and  walked  along  without 


THE  PEATRIES.  81 

the  slightest  feeling  of  thirst.  It  was  not  eleven  o'clock, 
and  we  had  not  marched  six  hours,  when  we  came  to  a 
puddle  of  water,  filling  the  wagon-track.  The  water 
was  apparently  the  result  of  some  local  shower ;  it  was 
clear,  but  the.  road  was  dirty,  and  on  one  side,  lying  in 
the  water,  were  the  putrid  remains  of  an  ox.  I  was 
turning  out  to  go  around  the  puddle,  when  I  heard  my 
friends  behind  shout  to  me  to  stop. 

"  What  for  ?"  I  asked,  in  much  amazement  at  the 
idea  of  halting  in  the  wettest  spot  we  could  find. 

"  Why,  for  a  drink." 

"  A  drink  !     "What,  drink  that  filthy  water  ?" 

Yes,  they  were  thirsty  enough  to  drink  anything. 
They  must  drink  something ;  the  canteens  and  keg  had 
been  empty  two  hours.  With  accelerated  speed,  they 
hurried  to  the  margin  of  the  puddle.  Some  knelt  down 
and  drank,  others  ladled  it  up  in  their  mugs,  and  several 
actually  filled  their  canteens  with  the  decoction.  Thus 
had  the  little  period  of  six  hours  swept  away  the 
niceties  of  men  who,  in  their  own  homes,  would  have 
sickened  at  the  thought  of  this  loathsome  draught ;  and 
thus  did  a  childish  bfcbit  destroy  the  whole  pleasure 
of  their  walk,  hide  all  the  beauties  of  the  landscape, 
divert  their  attention  from  objects  of  interest,  and  sub- 
ject them  to  a  needless  annoyance,  sometimes  little  less 
than  torture. 

The  following  day  passed  much  like  the  others — our 
road  still  leading  us  across  several  wood- encircled 
prairies,  separated  from  each  other  by  narrow  timber- 

4* 


82  PRISON   CAMPS. 

belts  and  trivial,  dried-up  bayous.  Early  in  the  after- 
noon, after  a  inarch  of  twenty-three  miles,  we  reached  a 
bayou  possessed  of  two  or  three  names.  From  these,  I 
selected  as  the  one  easiest  to  be  remembered,  "  Indian," 
and  after  crossing  the  place  where  the  water  of  Indian 
Bayou  ought  to  have  been,  I  found  that  we  were  to 
encamp  beyond  the  "timber,"  and  in  a  little  grove. 
This  word  "  grove  "  is  in  constant  use  through  western 
Louisiana  and  Texas,  and  when  first  heard,  it  strikes  the 
educated  ear  as  a  specimen  of  the  fine  talk  so  common 
in  all  parts  of  our  country.  ^But  when  these  natural 
groves  are  seen,  the  purest  taste  acknowledges  that  the 
word  is  not  misapplied.  The  one  in  which  we  now 
encamped  was  an  oval  clump  of  the  live  oak,  so  clear 
and  clean  below,  so  exact  and  regular  in  form,  that  one 
could  hardly  believe  nature  had  not  been  aided  by  the 
gardener's  art. 

The  next  morning  our  breakfast  disclosed  the  fact, 
that  the  Confederate  bacon  ration  is  not  so  large  as  the 
military  appetite.  The  lieutenant  informed  me  that  he 
had  no  intention  of  starving  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  arid 
had  sent  forward  two  men  to  dioot  a  yearling,  near  a 
certain  bayou,  and  there  we  would  halt  and  "barbecue" 
the  meat.  From  the  time  of  leaving  the  Teche,  the 
prairies  had  been  steadily  growing  drier.  The  atmos- 
phere, too,  was  clearer,  the  sky  brighter,  the  air  more 
bracing  and  elastic,  and  though  the  sun  was  intensely 
hot,  yet  there  was  not  the  damp,  vaporous  heat  that  is 
BO  oppressive  in  the  lower  prairies  of  Louisiana.  This 


THE  PKAIRIES.  83 

day  we  were 'to  cross  a  "  dry-prairie,"  and  as  we  had  at 
last  succeeded  in  an  early  start  (4-45),  we  reached  it 
before  the  heat  of  the  day  had  begun.  A  very  dreary 
waste  it  was,  unenlivened  by  the' usual  herds,  its  scanty 
herbage  dried  and  withered  up,  and  its  wide  expanse 
barren  and  desolate.  It  was,  if  I  remember  aright,  nine 
miles  across,  but  seemed  much  farther,  for  the  road  was 
soft  and  sandy,  and  with  every  breeze,  a  cloud  of  dust 
travelled  down  upon  us.  As  the  nine  miles  lessened 
.into  one,  and  the  stunted  trees  that  bordered  the  dry- 
prairie  came  in  view,  our  two  beef-hunters  also  could  be 
seen  driving  down  their  half-wild  game  toward  the 
road.  Being  somewhat  in  advance,  I  struck  off  to  join 
them.  Ere  I  accomplished  this,  a  young  heifer  broke 
from  the  herd  and  bounded  away.  Instantly  one  of  the 
rifles  flashed  and  the  heifer  fell.  The  shot  attracted  the 
corporal,  and  in  a  moment  his  little  bay  was  coming  pell- 
mell  across  the  broken  ground,  leaping  some  gullies  and 
scrambling  in  and  out  of  others,  until  he  threw  himself 
back  on  his  haunches  beside  us.  The  corporal  looked 
with  great  interest  at  what  they  called  the  "  yuhlin," 
inquired  how  far  they  had  driven  it  (some  eight  miles), 
and  enlarged  on  our  great  luck  in  getting  so  fat  a  "beef" 
on  so  poor  a  "  range." 

It  was  somewhat  of  a  mystery  to  me  how  the  "yuhlin" 
would  be  carried  to  camp.  "When  I  asked  whether  the 
wagon,  or  perhaps  the  leading  pair  of  mules,  would  be 
brought  round  to  tow  it  in,  the  corporal  laughed,  and 
said  in  his  merry  way,  that  he  would  show  us  how  they 


84  PKI60N   OAMP8. 

carried  their  game  home  in  Texas.  Forthwith  he  took 
his  ever-useful  lariat,  and  making  fast  one  end  to  the 
"  yuhlin's  "  horns,  wound  the  other  round  the  horn  of 
his  Mexican  saddle.  One  of  the  men  attached  another 
in  like  manner,  and  thus  harnessed,  the  two  horses 
dragged  the  heifer  as  they  would  a  log.  The  saddles, 
girthed  for  "roping"  cattle,  did  not  yield,  and  the 
horses  tugged  away  with  as  much  unconcern  as  though 
they  were  pulling  by  the  ordinary  collar  and  traces. 

The  mile  between  us  and  the  halting-place  was  soon- 
passed  over,  and  all  hands  seemed  to  feel  a  deep, 
immediate  interest  in  the  "  yuhlin."  Although  we  had 
marched  eighteen  miles  that  morning,  it  was  not  eleven 
o'clock ;  nevertheless  there  were  suggestions  of  fresh 
steaks,  and  the  deserter  (who  really  seemed  to  try  to 
eat  all  he  could,  so  as  to  be  in  some  measure  even  with 
men  who  had  less  ripened  chances  of  being  shot)  pro- 
ceeded to  bake  a  dodger.  The  corporal  had  unsaddled 
his  horse  in  a  trice,  and  was  now  elbow  deep  in  break- 
ing up  the  "  yuhlin."  Another  corporal — a  quiet,  hard- 
working, unassuming  German — prepared  the  frame 
for  barbecuing  the  meat.  This  consisted  of  poles  placed 
horizontally,  about  three  feet  from  the  ground.  Beneath 
it  a  slow  fire  was. made,  and  the  meat,  cut  up  in  thin 
slices,  was  spread  on  the  poles.  In  three  or  four  hours 
it  was  partly  dried  and  partly  cooked  into  a  half-hard 
state,  and  was  then  said  to  be  barbecued.  Meanwhile 
an  army  of  hogs  came  out  of  the  woods,  lean  and 
savage,  and  grunted  impatiently  for  their  share  of  the 


THE   PKAIEIE8.  85 

"yuhlin."  A  smaller  but  not  less  impatient  party 
waited,  with  drawn  knives  and  sharpened  sticks,  till  the 
steaks  could  be  cut,  and  then  hurried  with  them  to  their 
several  fires.  A  steak  thus  cooked  upon  hard- wood 
embers  retains  a  flavor  that  the  best  French  chef,  with 
charcoal  range,  only  approaches.  And  when  this  flavor 
is  intensified  by  the  fresh  breezes  of  the  prairie,  and  the 
long  miles  of  a  day's  inarch,  it  is  not  wonderful  that 
men  affirm  that  steaks  cut  from  buffalo  or  stag,  or 
even  from  a  poor  little  half-tamed  "  yuhlin,"  are  better 
than  the  best  butcher's  meat  that  can  be  bought  at 
home. 

When  the  meat  was  all  barbecued,  we  pushed  forward 
for  the  Calcasieu.  The  river  formed  a  dividing  line 
between  a  forest  and  a  prairie  country.  At  the  foot  of  a 
slight  bluff  was  a  flat-boat  and  rope-ferry.  I  learnt 
from  the  ferryman,  with  much  surprise,  that  our  "  gun- 
boat boats"  had  been  up  there,  and  captured  a  steamer 
and  several  schooners.  I  wished  most  ardently  as  we 
stepped  aboard  the  flat,  that  they  might  re-appear  at 
that  particular  moment,  and  enable  us  to  return  the 
good  treatment  of  our  guards,  by  providing  for  their 
wants  in  New  Orleans.  The  wish  was  not  realized,  and 
the  scow,  like  a  gentler  craft,  wafted  us  to  the  other 
shore.  There  an  unexpected  individual  hailed  our 
approach,  in  the  person  of  a  bright-looking  mule,  who, 
solitary  and  sad,  was  travelling  briskly  toward  the 
ferry.  The  corporal,  who,  as  usual,  led,  answered  the 
mule  in  his  way,  and  quickly  uncoiled  the  ]ariat.  The 


86  PRISON   CAMPS. 

mule  tried  a  dodge,  but  the  lariat  flew  straight  over  his 
head  and  tight  around  his  neck.  The  mule  was  fairly 
"  roped."  The  corporal  gave  an  inspiriting  yell,  and 
examined  the  brand.  It  was  an  unknown  brand — a 
Louisianian  brand — and  the  mule  was  therefore  adjudged 
a  lawful  prize. 

Our  road  now  wound  through  the  green  woods  and 
along  the  bank  of  the  winding  river.  The  sun,  which 
at  first  was  behind  us,  moved  round  upon  our  left,  then 
swung  in  front,  then  passed  beside  us  on  our  right,  then 
speedily  changed  back,  and  shone  again  before  us.  The 
foliage  screened  the  river,  but  frequent  openings  un- 
covered views  of  these  river-bends,  and  of  the  clear, 
dark  water  flowing  beside  us.  Courld  a  section  of  the 
Calcasieu  be  cut  out  and  transplanted  to  the  environs  of 
some  great  city,  the  rich  luxuriance  of  its  banks,  clad 
with  verdure  from  the  vines  that  trail  upon  the  water  to 
the  tops  of  the  tall  firs  and  deep-green  magnolias  that 
overhang  the  stream — its  constant  windings  and  its 
graceful  curves,  would  be  deemed  a  marvel  of  pictu- 
resque beauty.  Yet  here  the  traveller  finds  in  it  only  a 
dull  monotony  of  never-ceasing  turnings,  and  sees  in  the 
beautiful  foliage  of  its  banks,  only  a  dreary  loneliness. 
I  listened  to  a  Texan's  description,  and  doubted 
whether  it  had  ever  received  an  admiring  glance  before 
my  own.  This  wood,  too,  through  which  we  marched, 
was  not  the  foul  swamp  of  eastern  Louisiana.  There 
was  the  cool,  deep  shade,  the  dreamy  stillness,  the  sweet, 
wild  perfume  of  our  northern  forests.  The  trees  aided, 


THE   PEAIEIE9.  87 

too,  in  the  brief  delusion.  We  knew  the  rough  branches 
of  the  oak  and  the  needles  of  the  "fadeless  pine." 
Large  gum-trees  deceived  us  into  the  belief  that  they 
were  the  maples  of  a  u  sugar-bush  ;"  and  dwarfed  mag- 
nolias, at  the  first  glance,  took  the  semblance  of  the 
hickory.  There  was  also  a  delightful  refreshingness  in 
the  cool,  shadeful  river-bank,  and  our  long  march  through 
prairies,  exposed  and  shelterless,  helped  us  to  realize 
"  the  sweet  retirement "  of  the  woods. 

For  four  miles  we  marched  with  spirit  and  pleasure, 
although  they  made  up  the  sum  of  twenty-five  for  that 
day's  work.  Then  halting,  on  a  sandy  bluff  covered 
with  pines,  we  encountered  a  legion  of  troubles.  The 
gnats  were  terrible — the  mosquitoes  fearful — the  pine 
smoke  spoilt  our  steaks — the  fresh  breeze  of  the  prairie 
did  not  reach  us — and  our  longest  march  was  followed 
by  a  restless  night.  All  the  next  day  our  road  con- 
tinued in  the  "piny-woods."  There  were  occasional 
openings,  and  the  ground  was  clear  of  underbrush,  yet 
most  of  the  party  wished  themselves  back  on  the  prairie, 
and  thought  the  light  shade  of  the  pines  a  poor  return 
for  the  prairie  breeze.  As  it  was  Sunday,  we  halted 
early,  and  the  lieutenant  told  us  that  one  day  more 
would  bring  us  to  Niblett's  Bluff. 

For  two  days  we  lay  idle  at  the  Bluff,  with  no  better 
recreation  than  yawning  and  cooking.  On  the  third, 
the  Beaumont  boat  arrived.  Some  Vicksburg  paroled 
prisoners  had,  meanwhile,  come  in,  and  they  spoke  of 
our  soldiers  in  terms  which  were  most  cheering  to 


88  PRISON   CAMPS. 

us.  They  were  as  brave  as  men  could  be — they  had 
treated  them  like  brothers — they  had  given  them  all  the 
rations  they  could  carry  with  them,  and  they  had 
behaved  "  a  heap  better  every  way1"  than  it  was  sup- 
posed Yankees  could.  They  said  this  not  only  to  us,  but 
to  other  soldiers  and  citizens,  and  spoke  up  boldly  on  our 
behalf.  Tlie  effect  was  agreeable,  not  in  any  material 
change,  but  in  good  feeling  and  in  the  greater  kindliness 
with  which  we  were  treated.  The  boat  started  the  next 
morning  at  daybreak.  "We  descended  the  Sabine  and 
ascended  the  leeches,  reaching  Beaumont  in  the  even- 
ing. At  this,  place  there  was  a  railway  eating-house, 
that  gave  us  a  greasy  breakfast,  for  a  dollar  and  a  half; 
we  also  bought  sugar  for  a  dollar  a  pound,  and  water- 
melons for  a  dollar  apiece.  These  prices  seemed  enor- 
mous at  the  time,  but  subsequent  experience  makes 
them  appear  quite  reasonable. 

We  left  the  little  town  of  Beaumont  on  an  open  plat- 
form car  of  the  Houston  train.  Lieutenant  Duncan 
made  an  effort  to  have  us  placed  in  the  passenger  cars, 
but  they  were  full.  The  news  of  Yicksburg  had  reached 
here  some  time  before  us,  and  the  coming  of  the  Yicks- 
burg prisoners  was  expected.  At  every  station  were 
anxious  faces,  sometimes  made  glad  and  sometimes  going 
away  more  anxious  than  they  came.  At  one  of  these, 
there  were  two  women,  evidently  a  mother  and  her 
daughter.  The  train  had  hardly  stopped,  when  I  heard 
a  shriek,  which  sounded  like  one  of  agony,  but  was 
instantly  followed  by  the  words,  "  O  my  son,  I'm  so 


THE   PRAIRIES.  89 

glad,  I'm  so  glad,  I'm  so  glad  !"  I  looked  and  saw  a 
fine  young  fellow,  who  had  told  us  many  tales  'of  the 
sufferings  of  the  siege,  running  toward  the  woman,  and 
the  next  moment  folded  in  her  arms.  Unconscious  of 
the  many  eyes  upon  them,  the  mother  hung  upon  his 
neck,  and  the  sister  held  his  hand.  Some  friends  tossed 
him  his  roll  of  blankets,  but  it  fell  unnoticed.  The  train 
started,  but  they  did  not  look  around,  and  when  we 
were  far  out  upon  the  prairie,  they  still  stood  there  ex- 
changing their  eager  words,  and  seemingly  unconscious 
that  we  had  left  them. 

It  was  twilight  when  the  train  ran  into  Houston.  A 
crowd  was  on  the  platform,  made  up  of  families  and 
friends,  who  had  come  there  to  welcome  their  sons  and 
brothers  from  the  dreadful  siege.  There  was  a  row  of 
young  girls  upon  the  edge  of  the  platform,  and  as  our 
car  was  the  first  of  the  train,  they  of  course  saw  us  while 
looking  for  their  friends.  It  was  interesting  to  observe 
the  different  expressions  that  passed  over  the  line  of 
pretty  faces  as  their  eyes  scanned  us.  At  first  a  look 
of  anxrolis  interest— a  shade  of  disappointment — a  start 
of  surprise — a  slight  shrinking  back  with  side  glances 
at  each  other  and  the  whispered- word,  "prisoners" — 
and  then,  in  most  cases,  a  little  glance  of  pity.  But  our 
car  ran  past  them,  and  the  next  moment  were  heard  the 
usual  sounds  that  welcome  long-absent  soldiers  to  their 
homes — loud  congratulations,  eager  inquiries,  laughter 
and  kisses.  A  little  shade  of  sorrow,  and  perhaps  of 
envy,  fell  on  us.  We  stood  apart,  a  small  group  un- 


90  PRISON  CAMPS. 

noticed,  as  unknown.  I  tried  to  repress  the  dangerous 
feeling,  but  insensibly  my  thoughts  flew  far  away  to 
those  who  would  thus  have  welcomed  us. 
'  The  kindness  of  Lieutenant  Duncan  continued  una- 
bated. "We  had  shouldered  our  knapsacks,  but  he  sent 
for  carts,  and  insisted  on  conveying  them  for  us.  Before 
the  Provost  Marshal's,  a  small  crowd  assembled,  but  it  was 
quiet  and  respectful.  An  officer  of  the  provost  guard 
came  out.  He  took  the  roll  and  called  it,  made  sure 
that  all  were  present,  and  informed  Lieutenant  Duncan 
that  he  was  relieved  from  the  further  charge  of  us.  We 
were  faced,  and  marched  to  what  had  been  the  Court 
House.  Our  old  guard  accompanied  us.  They  at- 
tempted to  carry  in  our  things,  but  were  stopped  at  the 
door.  There  they  shook  hands  warmly,  and  wished  us 
a  speedy  exchange.  We  turned  down  a  dark  stone  pas- 
sage and  entered  a  room.  There  were  bars  on  the  win- 
dow, and  the  moonlight  fell  in  little  checkered  squares 
upon  the  dirty  floor.  The  corporal  of  the  guard  brought 
in  our  baggage — sent  out  and  bought  us  some  bread — 
asked  if  we  wanted  anything  else — and  then  drew  out  a 
key.  With  the  sight  of  that  key,  all  conversation 
ceased.  It  was  a  wand  of  silence.  No  one  spoke  or 
moved  or  looked  elsewhere.  Every  eye  remained  fixed 
on  the  key.  The  corporal  inserted  it  in  the  door.  It 
went  in  slowly  and  grated  horribly,  unlike  the  grating 
of  a  house  key,  or  an  office  key,  or  a  safe  key,  or  a  stable 
key,  or  any  kind  of  a  key,  SAVE  ONE  !  The  corporal 
looked  around  and  said,  good  night.  No  one  had 


THE  PRAIRIES.  91 

breath  enough  to  respond.  The  corporal  stepped  out 
and  the  door  closed,  not  with  a  bang  or  a  slam  or  a 
crash,  but  with  a  heavy,  ominous,  awful  sound.  There 
was  still  an  instant  of  suspense,  a  small  infinitesimal 
fraction  of  a  faint  hope,  and  then  the  key  turned,  grating 
with  an  indescribable  sound,  such  as  none  of  us  ever 
heard  key  give  forth  before.  "With  a  great  effort  I  with- 
drew my  eyes  from  the  door-lock,  and  looked  around  the 
room.  All  were  seated  on  their  blankets,  and  ranged 
round,  with  their  backs  against  the  walls.  The  moon- 
light checkers  still  fell  on  the  floor.  I  felt  that  some- 
body must  speak,  that  if  somebody  did  not  speak  soon, 
some  of  us  would  never  speak  again.  I  thought  that  I 
would  speak — I  made  another  great  effort,  and  said : 

"  What  a  singular  sound  a  key  makes  when  somebody 
else  turns  it ;  did  you  ever  remark  it  before  ?  I  suppose 
you  have." 

One  man  laughed — all  laughed.  Lieutenant  Sher- 
man came  promptly  to  my  aid,  and  said  : 

"  How  pretty  that  moonlight  is  on  the  floor  !  Who 
cares  for  the  bars." 

And  then  we  had  (apparently)  a  very  jolly  evening, 
in  the  dark. 

As  this  military  prison  has  not  a  very  good  name 
among  prisoners,  and  some  who  have  been  confined 
there  have  had  to  wait  a  day  or  two  for  rations,  and 
then  a  day  or  two  more  to  get  them  cooked,  I  feel  bound 
to  say  that  the  guard  brought  us  a  very  good  breakfast 
the  next  morning,  which  I  took  to  be  a  part  of  their 


92  PRISON   CAMPS. 

own.  They  brought  us  also  word  that  we  should  be 
sent  by  the  morning  cars  to  Camp  Groce. 

With  alacrity  we  shouldered  our  knapsacks,  and  lug- 
ged o'tir  remaining  "  traps  "  to  the  cars  ;  and  with  a  sense 
akin  to  freedom,  we  hurried  away  from  those  picturesque 
bars  and  that  detestable  lock.  There  was  a  little  deten- 
tion at  the  depot,  and  then  we  were  placed  in  a  "  first- 
class  passenger  car"  with  first-class  passengers,  and 
rolled  along  toward  the  prisoners'  camp.  The  conductor 
soon  came  upon  his  rounds,  and  as  he  passed  me,  asked 
in  a  whisper,  if  there  were  any  Massachusetts  officers 
among  the  prisoners.  He  was  a  tall,  fine-looking  man, 
with  the  tightness  and  trimness  of  dress  that  no  one  ever 
finds  in  a  Southerner.  I  asked  who  he  was,  and  learnt 
that  he  was  Lieutenant-Governor  B ,  of  Massachu- 
setts. The  fact  was  even  so — an  e"x-Lieutenant-Governor 
of  Massachusetts  was  a  conductor  on  the  South  Western 
Eailroad  of  Texas ! 

"Here  is  your  stopping-place,  gentlemen,"  said  the 
sergeant  of  our  guard.  "We  looked  from  the  car  win- 
dows, and  saw  long  barracks  of  rough  boards,  like  an 
enclosed  cow-shed.  In  front  was  a  pretty  grove,  and 
in  the  rear  a  sloping  hill.  At  the  doors  of  the  barracks 
we  saw  clusters  of  blue-jackets,  and  a  few  sauntered 
around  the  buildings.  We  toiled  up  a  sandy  bank ; 
the  roll  was -called,  and  we  were  "turned  over"  to 
the  commanding  officer.  Captain  Buster  greeted  us 
kindly,  and  said  he  was  sorry  to  see  us ;  he  had  been  a 
prisoner  twenty-two  months  in  the  dungeons  of  Mexico, 


THE   PRAIRIES.  93 

and  knew  what  it  was.  He  marshalled  us  down  to  the 
barracks,  and  formally  presented  us  to  Captain  Dilling- 
ham,  the  senior  officer  of  the  naval  prisoners.  "We 
entered  the  barracks.  They  were  like  most  such  build- 
ings, long  and  narrow,  with  bunks  around  the  sides,  and 
tables  for  the  well  and  cots  for  the  sick.  The  officers 
occupied  the  first  compartment.  They  crowded  around 
us,  with  eager  questions,  and  showed  us  kindness  and 
hospitality  beyond  our  expectations.  "We  selected  such 
bunks  as  were  still  empty,  unpacked  our  knapsacks,  and 
made  our  arrangements  for  the  night,  and  the  many 
nights  that  were  to  follow.  "We  studied  the  faces  of  our 
new  companions,  and  found  that  they  were  for  the  most 
part  sick  and  sad.  "We  talked  to  them,  and  found  that 
they  were  unhappy  and  dejected.  Half  a  year's  im- 
prisonment had  manifestly  changed  them  from  energetic, 
active  men,  to  listless,  idle,  irritable  invalids.  "We  asked 
ourselves  whether  it  could  have  a  like  effect  on  us,  and 
answered  that  it  could  not. 


94:  PRISON  CAMPS 


YI. 

CAMP   GROOE. 

IT  is  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  be  a  prisoner;  I  never  en 
joyed  it,  and  never  made  the  acquaintance  of  any  prisoner 
who  said  that  he  did.  True  is  it  that  you  have  but  few 
cares  and  responsibilities.  In  the  prisoners'  camp  you 
take  no  heed  of  what  you  shall  eat,  or  what  you  shall 
drink,  or  wherewith  you  shall  be  clothed.  If  the  rations 
come,  you  can  eat  them ;  and  if  they  do  not,  you  can 
go  without ;  in  neither  case  have  your  efforts  any  thing 
to  do  with  the  matter.  Your  raiment  need  not  trouble 
you ;  for  there  vanity  has  no  place,  and  rags  are  quite 
as  honorable  as  any  other  style  of  dress.  You  are  never 
dunned  by  importunate  creditors,  and  if,  by  possibility, 
you  were,  it  would  be  a  sufficient  bar  in  law  and  equity 
to  say  that  you  would  not  pay.  There  you  are  not 
harassed  by  pressing  engagements,  or  worried  by  clients 
or  customers.  There  you  have  no  fear  of  failure,  and 
may  laugh  at  bankruptcy.  And  yet,  with  all  these  ad- 
vantages, no  man  ever  seeks  to  stay  in  this  unresponsi- 
ble  paradise. 

"  The  dews  of  blessing  heaviest  fall 
Where  caro  falls  too." 


CAMP  GROCE.  95 

I  found  that  there  was  a  horrible  sense  of  being  a 
prisoner — of  being  in  somebody's  possession — of  eating, 
drinking,  sleeping,  moving,  living,  by  somebody's  per- 
mission ;  and  worst  of  all,  that  somebody  the  very  enemy 
you  had  been  striving  to  overcome.  There  was  a  feel- 
ing of  dependence  on  those  who  were  the  very  last  per- 
sons on  whom  you  were  willing  to  be  dependent.  There 
was  a  dreary  sense  of  constraint  in  your  freest  hours,  of 
being  shut  in  from  all  the  world,  and  having  all  the 
world  shut  out  from  you. 

In  the  first  days  of  imprisonment  the  novelty  carried 
the  new  prisoners  along,  and  buoyed  them  up.  Then 
came  a  season  of  work,  when  they  built  cabins  and  made 
stools  and  tables ;  and  then,  a  restless  fit,  when  they  felt 
most  keenly  the  irksomeness  of  the  life,  and  made  foolish 
plans  to  escape,  which  (so  the  "  old  prisoners  "  said)  had 
been  tried  before  and  failed.  Then  the  "  new  prisoners  " 
would  grow  quiet  and  sad.  The  most  of  them  would 
become  idle,  inert,  neglectful  of  their  dress  and  quarters, 
peevish  and  listless,  despondent  of  exchange,  yet  indif- 
ferent to  all  present  improvement.  A  few  (about  one  in 
ten)  would  struggle  to  make  matters  better;  they  would 
take  hopeful  views  of  affairs  and  perform  active  work  on 
things  around  them. 

For  a  day  or  two  after  our  arrival  at  Camp  Groce  we 
lay  by,  idle  and  weary.  As  I  thus  looked  on,  and  saw 
the  listless  despondency  of  the  "  old  prisoners,"  I  dis- 
covered quickly  that  those  were  happiest  who  were  busi- 
est. Experience  since  has  confirmed  me  in  the  valuo 


96  PEISON  CAMPS. 

I  early  set  on  occupation.  Those  labors  which  the  rebels 
have  imposed  on  our  men — the  chopping  of  wood — the 
building  of  houses — the  cooking  of  rations — have  been, 
I  think,  the  prisoner's  greatest  blessings.  Our  active 
Northern  minds  chafe  at  enforced  idleness,  and  the  freshly 
caught  Yankee,  or  Hoosier,  after  the  work  of  cabin 
building  is  done,  and  the  rough  tables  and  stools  are 
made,  becomes  dejected  and  then  sick  ;  and  yet  while  he 
was  doing  the  work  at  which  he  growled,  both  soul  and 
body  bore  up  easily.  It  is  no  wonder  then  that  I  said 
to  my  lieutenant,  "  This  will  never  do  for  us,  Sherman, 
we  must  be  busy." 

"We  turned  over  a  new  leaf,  therefore,  for  the  following 
day.  The  Captain  of  the  "Morning  Light"  joined  us  and 
pledged  himself  to  provide  and  devise  quantities  of  work. 
With  the  first  gleam  of  light  one  of  us  rose,  and  from  a 
little  private  hoard  abstracted  a  small  handful  of  coffee. 
These  sailor  prisoners,  I  early  found,  had  no  idea  of  going 
without  while  the  Confederacy  could  supply  them  for 
either  love  or  money  (they  did  not  care  much  which) ; 
and  they  inspired  the  rest  with  a  little  of  their  own  easy 
impudence. 

Accordingly  on  the  door-post  hung  one  of  the  last 
coffee-mills  that  the  shops  of  Houston  had  held,  and  in 
the  galley  (as  they  called  the  kitchen)  stood  a  stove— 
the  only  one,  probably,  in  any  Texan  camp.  The  first 
riser  then  kindled  a  fire  in  the  stove,  if  it  was  not  already 
there,  and  ground  and  made  the  coffee.  Then  bearing 
it  to  the  sleepers'  bunks,  he  quickly  roused  them  with 


CAMP   GKOCE.  9? 

tho  cheerful  salutation  of  "  Here's  your  coffee — your 
fine  hot  coffee !"  When  a  tin  mug  of  coffee  is  the  only 
luxury  of  the  day  it  rises  in  importance  and  becomes 
great.  We  sipped  it  slowly  and  discussed  it  gravely. 
One  thought  that  if  it  were  strained  a  fourth  time  it 
would  be  stronger — the  maker,  on  the  contrary,  thought 
that  straini \g  it  again  would  take  the  strength  out ; 
a  second  insisted  that  it  ought  to  boil — but  the  maker 
maintained  that  boiling  dispelled  the  aroma  and  sent  it 
flying  through  the  air.  The  coffee  ended  before  the 
argument ;  and  then  after  rinsing  out  our  mugs  and  re- 
storing them  to  their  private  pegs,  we  took  down  our 
towels  and  started  for  the  "  branch."  We  descended 
the  bill  by  u  little  path  that  was  nearly  hidden  in  tall 
weeds  and  led  to  some  thick  bushes  and  trees  that  grew 
along  the  "  branch."  The  chain  of  sentinels  around  the 
camp  consisted  of  broad-hatted  Texans,  sitting  at  irregu- 
lar intervals  on  stumps  and  logs,  and  generally  engaged 
in  balancing  their  rifles  on  their  knees.  One  of  these, 
Captain  Dillingham  hailed  in  a  patronizing  way,  in  re- 
turn for  which  attention  the  sentry  halted  us. 

"  I  reckon,"  he  said,  "  you  cun't  go  no  further  jist  yit 
awhile." 

"Halloo,"  said  the  Captain,  "what's  the  matter 
now?" 

"  Well,  there  be  three  down  there  now,  and  the  orders 
is  not  to  let  no  more  down  to  once." 

"  Orders  ?"  said  the  Captain,  indignantly :  "  who  cares 
for  orders !  What  difference  does  it  make  to  Jeff  Davis 


98  PRISON  CAMPS. 

whether  there  are  three  prisoners  or  six  washing  them- 
selves ?" 

"  Well,  I  reckon  it  don't  make  an  awful  sight  of  differ- 
ence," the  sentry  admitted. 

"Of  course  it  doesn't,"  said  the  Captain,  following 
up  the  concession.  "  The  idea  of  making  us  wait  here 
because  there's  somebody  down  there  /" 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you  might  as  well  go  on,"  yielded 
the  sentry :  "  I  reckon  you  won't  run  off  this  morning ;" 
and  on  we  went.  x 

The  "  branch  "  was  a  little  brook,  sometimes  running 
over  sand-bars,  sometimes  filtering  through  them,  and 
occasionally  settling  into  pools,  which  were  our  bathing 
places.  It  was  a  happy  relief  to  be  out  of  sight  of  the 
barracks  and  alone.  We  clung  to  this  under  all  sorts 
of  difficulties  and  restrictions — sometimes  going  out  with 
a  patrol — sometimes  squeezing  through  on  parole,  and 
holding  fast  to  it,  until  we  left  Camp  Groce  in  the  cold 
weather  of  December. 

The  bath  being  taken,  we  walked  leisurely  back,  won- 
dering that  so  few  sought  this  relief  from  the  misery  of 
prison.  At  the  barracks  our  sailor  cook  had  prepared 
the  breakfast,  which  was  set  out  on  the  long  table.  He 
blew  his  boatswain's  whistle,  and  all  members  of  the 
mess  hurried  at  the  call.  I  had  felt  poor  when  I  arrived 
at  Camp  Groce.  I  had  expected  to  broil  beef  on  sticks, 
and  bake  dodger  in  a  dodger  pot,  and  live  on  my  ration 
as  the  Texans  did.  I  was  amazed  at  the  extravagance 
I  beheld,  and  when  Captain  Dillingham,  with  a  sailor's 


CAMP   GROCE.  99 

heartiness,  invited  me  to  join  the  navy  mess,  I  hinted  to 
him  that  probably  I  should  become  insolvent  in  a  fort- 
night, if  I  did.  The  Captain  laughed  at  the  idea.  He 
said  there  was  plenty  of  money  in  Texas — he  had  never 
seen  a  country  that  had  so  much  money — and  it  was  the 
easiest  thing  to  get  it — anybody  would  lend  you  all  you 
wanted — the  only  fault  he  had  to  find  was,  that  after 
he  got  it  he  couldn't  spend  it.  Now,  making  reasonable 
allowances  for  nautical  exaggeration,  this  was  true. 
Sometimes  a  secret  Unionist — sometimes  a  Confederate 
officer  fairly  forced  his  money  upon  us.  They  took  no  ob- 
ligation, save  the  implied  one  of  our  honor;  and  the 
manner  of  payment,  and  the  specie  value  of  their  Con- 
federate funds,  they  left  entirely  to  ourselves.  To  spend 
this  money  was  a  harder  task.  To  change  this  easily 
gotten  spoilt  paper  into  something  of  real  intrinsic  worth 
was  to  acquire  wealth. 

"When  breakfast  was  finished,  I  took  up  a  little  French 
volume  of  ghost  stories  (which  I  read  over  five  times 
carefully  in  the  course  of  the  next  five  months),  and 
spent  on  it  and  some  military  works  the  next  four  hours. 
"  Prisoners  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  eat;"  so  at  the  end 
of  four  hours  we  had  our  breakfast  over  again.  "When 
"  dinner,"  as  it  was  called,  was  finished,  the  Captain 
stoutly  asserted  that  a  load  of  wood  must  be  got,  and 
somebody  must  volunteer  to  get  it.  The  Captain  volun- 
teered, so  did  Lieutenant  Sherman  and  myself,  so  did 
another  officer  cheerfully,  and  two  more  tardily ;  but 
the  mass  of  closely  confined  prisoners  were  too  weak  and 


100  PRISON   CAMPS. 

too  dejected,  and  they  shrunk  back  from  the  effort  that 
this  work  would  ccst  them,  preferring  to  stay  idle 
and  listless  in  their  horrid  prison.  Those  of  us  who 
volunteered,  seized  a  couple  of  dull  old  axes,  and  pro- 
ceeded to  head-quarters. 

"  "We  are  going  out  for  wood  to  cook  with,"  said  the 
Captain  to  the  lieutenant  that  we  found  there,  "  and  we 
must  have  an  arbor  to  keep  the  sun  off  those  sick  fellows, 
or  they'll  all  die,  and  you'll  have  nobody  to  exchange. 
"Wake  up  one  or  two  of  your  men,  and  send  them  out 
with  us." 

The  lieutenant  reckoned  he  could  not,  he  hadn't  a 
man  to  spare,  all  were  on  guard  who  hadn't  gone  off  to 
a  race.  The  Captain  pointed  to  the  axes  and  said,  "  we 
were  all  ready  to  go."  This  struck  the  lieutenant  as  a 
powerful  reason,  and  he  reckoned  he  would  let  a  nigger 
hitch  up  the  mules,  and  then  let  us  go  without  any  guard, 
but  we  must  not  go  across  the  "  branch."  The  Captain 
replied  that  we  would  not  go  a  great  way  across  the 
"branch;"  but  he  was  fond  of  liberty,  he  said,  and 
would  not  be  circumscribed  by  "  branches."  The  lieu- 
tenant insisted  on  the  "  branch,"  there  had  been  orders 
given  to  that  effect,  he  reckoned.  The  Captain  did  not 
care  anything  about  orders — what  difference  could  it 
make  to  Jeff.  Davis,  he  asked,  whether  we  cut  wood  on 
this  side  of  the  "  branch  "  or  the  other.  The  lieutenant 
could  not  answer  this  question,  so  he  said,  coaxingly, 
"  Well,  you  won't  go  a  great  ways  on  the  other  side,  will 
you?" 


CAMP   GEOCE.  101 

Tliis  little  difference  being  thus  compromised,  we 
mounted  an  o!4  rickety  "  two-mule  wagon,"  and  drove 
down  the  "  wood  road,"  till  a  sentry,  sitting  on  a  stump, 
reckoned  we  had  better  stop.  Stop !  what  should 
we  stop  for  ?  He  reckoned  he'd  orders  to  let  nobody 
out.  Orders!  Why,  we  had  just  been  up  to  head- 
quarters, and  got  orders  to  go  out,  and  also  the  wagon ; 
what  more  could  he  want.  Then  why  had  not  the  lieu- 
tenant sent  down  a  man  to  tell  him ;  it  was  no  way  to 
do  business.  The  Captain  said  the  wagon  was  pass 
enough  as  long  as  the  mules  would  travel,  and  that  we 
were  going  out  for  wood,  which  he  thought  altered  the 
case ;  if  he,  the  sentry,  doubted  it,  there  were  the  axes. 
The  sentry  looked  at  the  axes,  and  could  not  doubt  the 
evidence  of  his  eyes,  so  he  let  us  out. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  then  began  a  long  evening. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  sit  in  the  dark  and  talk  of 
nothing.  Then  there  was  a  detail  made  of  two  for  the 
sick  watch,  and  finding  that  I  was  "on,"  I  went  to  bed. 
In  the  morning  there  had  been  several  late  sleepers  who 
wondered  why  people  got  np  early  and  ran  a  coffee-mill. 
As  a  matter  of  course  these  individuals  now  wondered 
why  people  went  to  bed  early  and  wanted  to  sleep.  The 
topics,  too,  which  they  chose  were  exactly  the  topics 
that  always  keep  you  awake ;  and  if  by  chance  you  for- 
got them  long  enough  to  fall  asleep,  then  there  would 
be  a  furious  argument  on  some  important  matter ;  and 
if  that  did  not  waken  you,  then  some  other  man  (who, 
like  yourself,  turned  in  at  taps,)  would  lose  patience  and 
roar  out,  "  taps,"  "  lights  out,"  "  guard-house,"  etc.,  etc. 


102  PRISON  CAMPS. 

In  small  assemblages  men  may  wake  up  and  fall 
asleep  when  they  please,  but  in  camps  and  barracks, 
where  many  men  of  different  habits  are  brought  together, 
there  must  be  some  uniform  rule  for  all.  The  Confeder- 
ates never  enforced*  military  usage  upon  us,  much  to  the 
regret  of  all  who  were  accustomed  to  it,  and  a  few  very 
early  and  very  late  individuals,  some  of  whom  sat  up 
till  after  taps,  and  others  of  whom  turned  out  before  re- 
veille, were  an  endless  annoyance  to  each  other  and  to 
all.  I  think  no  officer  of  experience  ever  ran  this  gaunt- 
let without  inwardly  resolving  that,  if  ever  he  got  back 
to  his  own  command,  stillness  and  darkness  should  rule 
between  taps  and  reveille ;  that  with  daylight  every 
blanket  should  go  out,  and  every  tent  be  put  in  prder ; 
that  every  shaggy  head  should  be  clipped,  and  all  the 
little  regulations  which  weak-minded  recruits  think  to 
be  "  military  tyranny,"  should  be  most  rigorously  en- 
forced. 

But  as  I  tossed  around  and  made  these  resolves,  the 
little  sailor  who  was  acting  as  hospital  steward  came  in 
with  both  hands  full  of  prescriptions.  We  had  two  ex- 
cellent and  faithful  surgeons  at  Camp  Groce,  Dr.  Sherfy 
of  the  "  Morning  Light,",  and  Dr.  Eoberts  'of  the  Con- 
federate service.  They  kept  their  little  office  outside  of 
the  lines,  came  round  on  their  second  visit  in  the  after- 
noon, and  during  the  evening  made  up  their  prescrip- 
tions. This  evening  the  first  watch  took  the  prescrip- 
tions from  the  hospital  steward,  and  received  the  direc- 
tions. It  was  Lieut.  Hays,  of  the  175th  N.  Y.,  a  happy, 
generous,  warm-hearted  Irishman,  youthful  and  with 


CAMP   GKOCE.  103 

the  linmor  and  drollery  of  his  race.  He  was  always 
making  fun  when  others  were  dull,  and  making  peace 
when  they  were  angry.  Soon  I  heard  him  going  round 
among  the  sick.  "  I  will  listen,"  I  thought,  "  and  find 
out  what  I  have  to  do  when  my  watcli  comes." 

"Here's  your  medicine  now,  Mr.  Black,"  I  heard  him 
say,  "  wake  up  and  take  it." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  sick  man. 

"  Oh !  it's  blue  pills  to  touch  your  liver ;  come,  take 
it,  and  don't  be  asking  questions." 

"  How  many  of  them  are  there  ?"  inquired  the  pa- 
tient after  swallowing  several. 

"  There  are  just  seven  of  them,  but  what's  that  to 
you  ?  it  won't  do  you  any  good  to  know  it." 

"  Why,  the  doctor  said  he  would  send  me  six.  Per- 
haps you  are  not  giving  me  mine." 

"  Just  you  take  what's  sent  to  you.  If  you  don't  take 
the  whole  seven,  they  won't  touch  your  liver  a  bit  5  six 
would  be  of  no  use  at  all." 

The  man  with  the  untouched  liver  swallowed  the  pills, 
and  soon  I  heard  the  first  watch  rousing  another  sick 
man  with  the  same  formula  of  "  Here's  your  medicine 
now,  wake  up  and  take  it — it's  blue  pills  to  touch  your 
liver." 

"  How  many  of  them  are  there  ?"  asked  this  patient. 

"There  are  just  six  of  them — what's  the  use  of  your 
knowing  ?" 

"  Why,  the  doctor  said  he  would  send  me  seven — per- 
haps these  are  not  mine." 


104  PEISON   CAMPS. 

"  No  matter,  six  are  just  as  good  as  seven,  and  seven 
are  just  as  good  as  fifty.  All  you  need  do  is  to  take  what 
I  give  you,  and  it  will  touch  your  liver  all  the  same." 

Much  enlightened  by  this  mode  of  distributing  doses; 
and  reassuring  patients,  I  went  to  sleep,  and  slept  till 
one  A.M.,  when  the  first  watch  called  me,  and  I  took  my 
turn.  It  was  rather  dreary,  sitting  in  the  dark  and  cold, 
occasionally  giving  a  man  his  medicine  or  a  drink,  and 
wishing  for  daylight.  There  was  one  poor  fellow,  also 
a  lieutenant  of  the  lY5th,  fast  going  in  consumption. 
His  constant  cough,  his  restless  sleep,  his  attenuated 
form,  bright  eye  and  hectic  cheek,  all  told  of  the  com- 
ing end.  Yet  with  him  there  was  nothing  to  be  done 
but  wait  and  watch. 

Now  this,  of  itself,  was  not  such  a  bad  sort  of  day ; 
but  there  was  a  month  of  such  days ;  and  then  another 
month,  and  then  a  third,  and  then  many  more.  "What 
wonder  that  the  strongest  resolutions  failed  ! 

Then  death  came  in  among  our  little  company,  and 
came  again  and  again.  Then  sickness  increased  under 
the  August  sun.  The  long  moss  that  hung  down  from 
the  trees  and  waved  so  gracefully  on  the  breeze,  had  be- 
tokened it  long  before  it  came,  and  the  uncleaned  camp 
and  listless  life  made  the  prediction  sure.  It  went  on 
until  all  but  one  had  felt  it  in  some  shape  or  other,  and 
there  were  not  enough  well  to  watch  the  sick.  It  never 
left  us,  and  down  to  our  last  day  at  jOamp  Groce  the 
chief  part  of  our  company  were  frail  and  feeble  and 
dispirited. 


CAMP   GROCE.  105 

!N"ear  to  the  barracks"  stood  a  little  shanty  of  rough 
boards,  divided  by  a  plank  partition  into  two  rooms. 
One  of  these  had  been  assigned  to  Mr.  Stratford  and 
his  wife,  and  the  other  after  several  weeks  came  into  the 
possession  of  Col.  Burrill  of  the  42d  Mass.,  Dr.  Sherfy, 
Capt.  Dillingham  and  myself.  After  living  amid  the 
sickness,  the  discord,  and  the  misery  of  the  barracks,  this 
room  measuring  ten  feet  by  twelve,  promised  to  four  of 
us  a  quiet  and  retirement  that  amounted  almost  to  hap- 
piness. We  went  to  work  upon  our  little  house  with  all 
the  zeal  of  school-boys,  and  positively  look  back  upon  it 
with  affection.  It  boasted  doors,  but  neither  windows 
nor  chimney.  Its  walls  were  without  lath  and  plaster, 
and  through  innumerable  chinks  let  in  the  wind.  The 
Captain  arid  I  also  messed  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stratford ; 
so  we  had  a  double  interest  in  the  shanty,  and  when  we 
had  built  ourselves  bunks  and  swung  a  shelf  or  two, 
we  went  to  work  on  our  other  half. 

"  What  shall  I  do  for  a  blanket  line  ?  "  was  one  of  the 
first  questions  I  had  asked  after  our  arrival. 

"  Let  me  lend  you  mine,"  said  an  officer  of  the  "  Morn- 
ing Light,"  "  we  sailors  always  hang  on  to  our  ropes." 

"  I  will  take  it  this  morning,  with  thanks ;  but  I  want 
something  of  my  own.  If  there  is  anything  I  despise,  it's 
a  soldier's  blanket  in  his  tent  after  reveille." 

"  We  are  not  so  particular  here,  I'm  sorry  to  say," 
said  my  friend ;  "  and  unless  you  can  find  a  line  among 
the  sailors,  you  won't  find  one  in  Texas." 

"I   am  going  out  in  the  woods  this  afternoon,  with 

5* 


106  PEISOH  CAMPS. 

Mr.  Fowler,"  I  answered,  "and  will  try  to  get  one 
there." 

Now,  Mr.  Fowler,  the  acting  Master  of  the  "  Morning 
Light,"  was  an  old  sailor,  who  had  hardly  been  on  shore 
for  forty  years.  But  in  his  early  boyhood  he  had 
watched  the  Indians  at  their  work,  and  caught  from 
them,  as  boys  do,  some  of  their  simple  medicines  and 
arts.  For  years  and  years  these  facts  had  slept  undis- 
turbed in  his  mind.  If  any  one  had  asked  him,  he  would 
have  said  they  were  forgotten ;  but  now,  tinder  the  pres- 
sure of  our  wants,  they,  one  by  one,  came  back.  With 
this  long-time  worthless  knowledge,  Mr.  Fowler  was 
now  busily  and  usefully  employed.  He  made  Indian 
baskets  of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  and  even  bent  his  ash- 
slips  into  fantastic  dishes.  He  made  Indian  brooms  and 
fly-brushes,  and  wooden  bowls,  and  wove  grape-vino  and 
black-jack  into  high-backed,  deep-seated,  sick-room 
chairs.  Where  others  saw  only  weeds  or  fire-wood,  he 
found  remedies  for  half  our  diseases;  and  when  the 
surgeon's  physic  gave  out,  Mr.  Fowler's  laboratory  was 
rich  in  simples. 

"We  went  out  on  parole  that  afternoon,  Mr.  Fowler 
carrying  his  basket,  and  I,  an  axe.  He  called  attention 
to  the  fact  that  these  pecan  nuts  would  be  ripe  by-and- 
by,  and  that  those  persimmons  would  be  worth  coming 
after  when  the  frost  should  have  sugared  them,  and  he 
filled  his  basket  as  he  walked  and  talked.  Before  long, 
we  saw  some  clean  black-jack  vines  hanging  from  the 
top-most  branches  of  a  tree.  We  tugged  and  strained 


CAMP  GKOCE.  107 

a  few  minutes,  and  then  a  splendid  vine  came  down, 
not  thicker  than  a  lady's  finger  at  the  root,  yet  forty  feet 
in  length.  It  was  flexible  as  a  rope,  and  as  I  coiled  it 
up,  I  said  to  Mr.  Fowler,  UI  have  got  my  blanket 
line." 

Having  cut  an  ash  stick  for  a  broom,  and  a  pecan  log 
for  an  axe  handle,  we  went  back  to  camp,  where,  soon 
after,  Mr.  Fowler  was  busily  engaged  in  pounding  his 
ash  stick  to  loosen  the  splints,  and  I,  at  w^ork  on  the 
severest  manual  effort  of  my  life,  viz.,  whittling  with  a 
soft-bladed  penknife,  out  of  flinty  pecan  wTood,  an  ortho- 
dox American  axe-helve. 

Some  weeks  passed,  and  then  one 'of  those  events  oc- 
curred which  are  doubly  mortifying  if  you  are  then  on 
the  wrong  side  of  the  enemy's  lines.  I  was  lying  ill  in 
my  bunk  when  an  excited  individual  rushed  into  the 
barracks  and  made  me  better  by  the  announcement,  that 
the  train  had  brought  up  great  news  from  Houston. 
Blunt  was  coming  down  through  the  Indian  Territory  with 
his  rough  borderers,  and  all  the  troops  in  Texas  were  to 
be  hurried  northward  to  repel  the  invasion.  For  several 
days  and  nights  trains  ran  by  our  camp  loaded  with  sol- 
diers who  howled  horribly  to  our  guards,  who  howled 
horribly  back  to  them.  The  "  Houston  Telegraph"  came 
filled  with  orders  of  General  Magruder,  directing  the 
movement  of  his  forces,  and  naming  twenty-seven  differ- 
ent battalions  that  were  to  hurry  forward  immediately. 
The  General  did  not  publish  such  orders  ordinarily,  and 
this  one  looked  like  haste,  excitement  and  alarm. 


108  PRISON   CAMPS. 

One  night,  about  ten  o'clock,  an  engine  was  heard 
hurrying  up  the  road.  As  usual  it  stopped  at  the  water- 
tank  near  our  camp.  In  ten  minutes  important  news 
had  leaped  from  the  engine  to  head-quarters  ;  from 
head-quarters  to  the  guard-house,  and  from  the  guard- 
house straight  through  the  line  of  sentries  into  our  bunks. 
The  news  was  this :  twelve  Yankee  gun-boats,  twenty- 
four  large  transports,  and  'six  thousand  men  lay  off 
Sabine. 

The  next  day  the  train  confirmed  the  news.  "We 
learnt,  too,  that  Union  men,  in  Houston,  were  bold  and 
defiant,  and  talked  openly  of  a  change  of  masters.  Our 
guards  were  in  a  ferment.  They  talked  with  us  freely, 
and  confessed  that  there  were  not  three  hundred  troops 
between  Houston  and  Sabine.  "  Your  folks  will  seize 
the  railroad  and  march  straight  on  to  Houston,"  they 
said,  "  and  then  Galveston  will  have  to  go,  and  like  as 
not  you'll  be  guarding  us  within  a  week."  "What 
splendid  strategy,"  said  everybody.  "  Blunt  has  drawn 
all  the  forces  in  the  State  up  to  Bonham — there  is 
nothing  to  prevent  our  coming  in  below  ;  Magruder  is 
completely  out-generalled.  "We  must  forgive  the  two 
months  of  idleness  since  Vicksburg  and  Port  Hudson 
fell." 

Another  day  came,  and  the  excitement  increased  ; 
another,  and  affairs  seemed  in  suspense ;  a  third,  and 
there  was  a  rumor  that  two  gun-boats  had  been  sunk, 
their  crews  captured,  and  that  the  u  Great  Expedition  " 
was  u  skedaddling  "  (such  was  the  ignominious  term  ap- 


CAMP   GROCE.  109 

plied)  back  to  New  Orleans.  There  came  yet  another 
day,  when  we  sat  waiting  for  the  train. 

"The  cars  are  late,"  said  one.  "It  is  past  three 
o'clock,  and  they  should  have  been  here  at  two." 

"  That's  a  good  sign,"  said  another ;  "  it  shows  they 
have  something  to  keep  them.  "When  they  come  you 
will  see  Magruder  is  sending  off  his  ordnance  stores." 

"  Then  you  don't  feel  any  fear  about  that  rumor?" 

"  That  rumor,  oh  no  !  It  is  the  best  sign  of  all.  They 
never  fail  to  get  up  such  rumors  wrhen  they  are  being 
beaten.  Don't  you  remember  how,  just  before  Yicks- 
burg  surrendered,  we  used  to  hear  that  Breckenridge 
had  taken  Baton  Rouge,  and  Taylor  was  besieging  New 
Orleans,  and  Lee  had  burnt  Philadelphia  ?" 

"  Oh  no,"  said  everybody,  stoutly,  "  there  is  no  dan- 
ger. And  how  can  there  be  ?  We  know  that  there  is 
nothing  down  there  but  a  little  mud  fort,  with  fifty  men 
in  it,  and  six  forty -two  pounders.  Our  hundred-pound 
Parrots  will  knock  it  to  pieces,  and.  a  couple  of  com- 
panies can  carry  it  by  assault.  Oh  no,  all  I  am  afraid 
of  is,  that  we  shall  be  run  off,  nobody  knows  where." 

The  whistle  sounded  and  we  waited  for  the  news. 
The  track  ran  through  a  deep  cutting,  which  at  first  hid 
the  body  of  the  cars  from  our  sight,  but  a  man  stood  on 
the  roof  of  the  foremost  baggage  car  and  waved  his  hat. 
Presently  a  howl  was  given  by  those  of  our  guard  who 
were  waiting  at  the  station. 

"  What  can  that  mean  ?"  said  everybody.  "  Yery 
strange  !  surely  there  can  be  no  bad  news  for  us." 


110  PRISON   CAMPS. 

The  next  moment,  some  one  exclaimed,  "  Good  hea- 
vens, what  a  sight !  Look  there  !"  I  looked  ;  the  train 
was  covered  with  the  blue-jackets  of  our  navy. 

The  officers  of  the  "  Clifton  "  and  "  Sachem"  did  not  ac- 
company their  men.  We  heard  that  they  were  guilty  of 
spiking  their  cannon,  flooding  their  magazines,  secreting 
their  money,  and  other  like  offences,  for  which,  they 
were  kept  at  Houston ;  later,  however,  they  unexpect- 
edly came  up.  A  new  Captain,  who  then  commanded 
Camp  Groce,  ushered  them  in,  and  wre  welcomed  them. 
The  youngest  of  us  then  had  been  prisoners  more  than 
three  months,  and  felt  ourselves  to  be  "  old-prisoners." 
The  Captain  of  the  "  Clifton  "  supped  with  us,  and  as  he 
surveyed  our  little  shanty,  replete  with  black-jack  lines, 
hat-racks  of  curiously  twisted  branches,  knives,  and 
spoons,  and  salt-cellars,  neatly  carved  from  wood,  and 
pipes  fashioned  out  of  incomparable  corn-cob,  he  said 
that  these  little  luxuries  made  him  feel  sorry  for  us,  for 
they  showed  him  what  straits  we  had  been  reduced  to. 
I  felt  sorry  for  him  as  he  said  it,  for  the  speech  reminded 
me  of  the  lessons  reserved  for  him  to  learn.  Later  than 
usual  we  retired,  excited  with  this  unusual  event.  The 
barracks  had  just  grown  quiet,  when  the  Captain  in 
command  suddenly  re-appeared,  his  guard  at  his  back. 
"  The  gentlemen  who  arrived  to-day,"  he  said,  in  an 
agitated  voice,  "  will  please  to  rise  immediately."  The 
new-comers  rose,  groped  round  for  clothes  and  baggage 
in  the  dark ;  and  as  they  dressed,  asked  what  all  this 
meant.  The  Captain  vouchsafed  no  reply,  but  in  a  still 


CAMP   GROCE.  Ill 

more  agitated  voice,  begged  them  to  be  as  quick  as  pos- 
sible. Whether  they  were  going  to  be  searched,  or 
executed,  or  sent  back  to  Houston,  nobody  could  deter- 
mine. They  were  marched  off,  and  we,  now  wide  awake, 
discussed  the  matter  for  some  hours.  The  next  morning 
disclosed  our  friends  haplessly  shivering  around  a  small 
building,  some  three  hundred  yards  distant.  It  appeared 
that  strict  orders  had  been  sent  up  \vith  the  prisoners, 
directing  that  they  should  be  confined  separately,  and 
hold  no  communication  with  us.  The  now  unhappy 
Captain  had  not  thought  it  worth  while  to  read  his 
orders  until  bed  time.  Then  he  stumbled  on  the  fiat  of 
the  stern  Provost  Marshal  General,  whose  chief  delight 
was  to  court-martial  Confederate  captains.  Deeply  dis- 
mayed, he  had  rushed  to  the  guard-house  for  his  guard, 
to  the  barracks  for  his  prisoners,  and  executed  the  pain- 
ful work  of  separation. 

The  Provost  Marshal  General  had  not  enclosed  sub- 
sistence in  his  order.  In  the  absence  of  dodger-pots,  the 
"  old  prisoners  "  had  to  take  care  of  these  new  ones.  "We 
were  not  allowed  to  write  or  talk,  to  send  messages  or 
to  receive  them.  The  baskets,  as  they  went  and  came, 
were  searched,  the  dodgers  broken  open,  and  everything 
was  done  in  a  very  military  and  terrible  way.  In  a  few 
days  we  received  a  present  of  pea-nuts  from  our  friends. 
We  were  not  fond  of  pea-nuts,  and  did  not  appreciate 
the  gift.  The  basket  travelled  over  as  usual  with  their 
dinner,  but  carried  no  acknowledgment  of  the  pea-nuts. 
In  the  afternoon  Lieutenant  Dane,  of  the  signal  corps. 


112  PRISON  CAMPS. 

was  seen  approaching  our  lines  with  a  prize — a  prize 
that  had  neither  predecessor  nor  successor — a  leg  of 
mutton.  The  lieutenant  delivered  the  mutton  across 
the  line  to  one  of  us,  and  the  notability  of  the  event 
warranted  him  in  saying  before  the  guard  : 

"  This  is  a  present  from  Major  Barnes.  Did  you  get 
the  pea-nuts  we  sent  you  this  morning  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  responded  Captain  Dillingham,  on  behalf 
of  our  mess ;  "  yes,  they're  very  nice.  We  are  much 
obliged  to  you." 

"  Eat  them,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "  eat  them.  They 
won't  hurt  you — eat  them  all." 

The  Captain  carried  the  leg  of  mutton  in,  and  lira* 
riedly  took  down  the  pea-nuts.  "We  looked  sharply  at 
them,  but  saw  nothing  unusual.  Why  eat  them  all  f 
"  If  they  want  us  to  do  so,  it  must  be  done !"  We  pro- 
ceeded to  break  the  shells.  Presently  there  was  a  shell — 
a  sound  and  healthy  shell — within  which  had  grown  a 
long,  narrow  slip  of  paper,  rolled  up  tightly.  It  con- 
tained a  single  message,  viz.,  that  the  covered  handle  of 
Mr.  Fowler's  basket  was  in  fact  a  mail-bag.  From  that 
time  on,  the  watchful  patrols  would  lift  out  the  plates, 
and  inspect  the  beef,  and  scrutinize  the  dodger,  and  then 
carry  the  mail-bag  backward  and  forward  for  us. 

With  the  increased  number  of  prisoners,  there  had 
been  a  change  in  the  command  of  the  camp.  The  com- 
pany of  volunteers  were  relieved  by  a  battalion  of 
militia.  To  our  surprise,  the  militia  very  far  surpassed 
the  volunteers,  and  did  their  business  in  a  very  soldierly 


CAMP   GROCE.  113 

way.  The  battalion  was  commanded  b}r  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  John  Sayles,  a  lawyer  of  considerable  distinction 
in  Texas.  The  Lieutenant-Colonel  was  a  man  of  few 
words,  very  quiet,  very  kind,  and  rarely  gave  an  order 
that  did  not  effect  an  improvement. 

On  the  Sunday  after  he  assumed  command,  Colonel 
Sayles  informed  me  in  his  quiet  way,  that  there  would 
be  Divine  service  in  the  grove,  and  invited  me  and  all 
the  prisoners  to  accompany  him.  There  had  been  a 
reverend  gentleman  preaching  at  Camp  Groce  the  Sun- 
day before  I  arrived,  who  had  been  seeking  a  chaplaincy, 
and  had  assumed  what  he  supposed  was  a  popular  train 
of  argument ;  as  for  instance,  warning  his  beloved 
brethren  that  the  chief  horror  of  eternal  punishment 
would  be  meeting  the  President  of  the  United  States 
there.  I  do  not  care  to  hear  irreverent  things  said  in  the 
pulpit,  nor  do  I  think  it  the  part  of  an  officer  to  listen 
voluntarily  to  denunciations  of  his  government,  yet  I 
felt  assured  that  Colonel  Sayles  would  not  invite  me  to 
anything  of  that  kind,-  and  I  thought  I  could  best  ac- 
knowledge his  civility  by  accepting. 

"When  the  clergyman  who  officiated  first  caught  sight 
of  the  prisoners,  forming  one-half  of  his  audience,  he 
evinced  a  little  embarrassment.  He  alluded  to  this  as 
he  began  his  sermon,  and  spoke  happily  of  the  breadth 
of  the  Christian  faith,  extending  to  all  conditions  of  men, 
and  enabling  enemies  to  stand  together  and  worship  at 
one  altar.  His  prayer  was  chiefly  an  affecting  and 
beautiful  petition  on  our  behalf.  He  spoke  of  the  tender 


114:  PRISON   CAMPS. 

ties  that  were  severed,  and  besought  consolation  for  our 
distant  dear  ones,  who  must  be  now  in  anxiety  watching 
our  fate.  He  prayedf  too,  that  "  we  their  captors  and 
keepers,  may  have  grace  to  treat  them  as  becomes 
Christian  soldiers,  resisting  the  evil  passions  of  our 
hearts  and  the  evil  counsels  of  wicked  and  cruel  men." 

After  the  services  were  concluded,  we  were  introduced 
to  the  clergyman,  Mr.  McGown,  of  Huntsville.  'He 
visited  us  in  our  quarters,  ministered  to  our  sick,  and 
was  always  one  of  our  most  welcome  visitors.  He  had 
been  with  Houston  in  the  war  of  Texan  independence, 
and  was  one  of  the  heroes  of  San  Jacinto.  His  acquaint- 
ance with  the  General  had  been  intimate,  and  he  enter- 
tained us  with  many  interesting  anecdotes  of  him  and 
tales  of  the  former  war. 

These  anecdotes  of  General  Houston  then  possessed 
for  us  unusual  interest.  "When  some  of  the  older  prison- 
ers had  been  sent  to  the  State  Prison  at  Huntsville,  they 
were  halted  a  few  minutes  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
town.  As  they  waited  there,  a -tall,  imposing  old  man 
approached  and  asked,  who  was  the  United  States  officer 
highest  in  rank.  Captain  Dillingham  was  pointed  out 
to  him  as  the  senior  naval  officer.  Walking  up  to  him 
and  extending  his  hand,  he  said,  in  a  deep,  emphatic 
roice,  "  My  name  is  Houston,  sir.  I  have  come  to  say 
to  you,  gentlemen,  that  I  do  not  approve  of  such  treat- 
ment for  prisoners  of  war.  No  prisoner  of  war  sl&ll  ever 
be  put  in  a  jail  with  my  consent." 

The  death  of  General  Houston  occurred  just  before  I 


CAMP   GKOCE.  115 

readied  Texas.  Many  stories  were  told  of  his  great  per- 
sonal power,  and  strange  incidents  of  his  wondrously 
romantic  life.  The  forebodings  of  his  celebrated  letter 
were  all  realized  before  he  died,  for  his  oldest  son  was 
in  the  ranks — his  warmest  friends  and  supporters  were 
scattered  and  slain,  and  ruin  and  desolation  brooded  over 
the  State  which  he  had  established  and  so  long  directed 
and  controlled.  He  was  guarded  in  the  expression  of 
his  political  sentiments,  but  occasionally  addressed  the 
troops,  speaking  from  the  Texan  point  of  view.  He 
never  took  the  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  Confederate 
Government.  A  short  time  before  his  death  travellers 
were  required  to  have  a  Provost  Marshal's  pass,  and  to 
procure  a  pass  they  must  take  the  oath.  The  General 
had  neither  taken  the  oath  nor  procured  a  pass.  He 
set  out,  however,  on  a  journey  and  proceeded  till  one  of 
the  provost  guard  halted  him  and  demanded  his  pass. 

"  My  pass  through  Texas,"  said  the  old  man,  in  his 
sternest  tone,  "  is  San  Jacinto." 

The  Texan  soldier  looked  at  him  for  a  moment.  "  I 
reckon,"  he  said,  u  that  pass  will  go  as  far  in  Texas  as 
any  a  Provost  Marshal  ever  wrote.  Pass  on,  old  San 
Jacinto.'' 

Colonel  Sayles  was  soon  succeeded  by  Major  James  S. 
Barnes  of  the  same  battalion.  The  Major  was  a  Georgian 
by  birth,  an  old  Texan  by  residence,  and  a  man  of 
great  general  information,  and  so  far  as  we  were  con- 
cerned, in  every  thought  and  word  and  deed  a  perfect 
Christian  gentleman.  He  told  stories  with  a  graphic 


116  PRISON  CAMPS. 

simplicity  I  have  never  heard  excelled,  and  was  so  plea- 
santly reasonable  and  so  enticingly  good-natured  that 
even  onr  wayward  sailors  consented  to  be  led  by  a  lands- 
man, and  allowed  that  he  was  as  good  a  man  as  a  rebel 
could  be.  One  day  as  the  Major  passed  through  the 
barracks  chatting  with  the  well  and  cheering  up  the  sick, 
he  hinted  at  the  uncertainty  of  exchange  and  at  coming 
"  northers,"  and  advised  us  to  prepare  for  the  worst  by 
building  ourselves  chimneys  and  fire-places.  He  prom- 
ised to  provide  an  old  negro  chimney-builder  to  engineer 
the  work  and  teams  to  haul  the  material.  The  dwellers 
in  the  shanty  quickly  availed  themselves  of  the  offer. 
But  nothing  could  induce  those  in  the  barracks  to  go 
and  do  likewise.  So  weak  and  dispirited  were  all  that 
the  difficulties  appeared  insurmountable.  When  the 
frost  came  aud  found  them  still  prisoners,  they  piled 
sand  on  the  floor,  and  making  fire  upon  it  sat  there  and 
shivered,  while  the  smoke  floated  over  them  and  found 
its  way  out  through  the  holes  in  the  roof. 

We,  who  were  wise  betimes,  cut  our  logs  in  the  woods, 
dug  up  our  clay  on  the  neighboring  hill-side,  and  waited 
the  arrival  of  "Uncle  George."  This  uncle  came  in 
time,  and  led  the  work.  A  hole  was  cut  in  Mr.  Strat- 
ford's room — the  logs  were  notched  and  crossed,  the 
chimney  splints  were  split  and  laid  up,  and  the  whole 
was  properly  cemented  together,  and  daubed  over  with 
rich  clay  mortar. 

Hardly  was  the  chimney  complete,  when  one  of  the 
guard  announced  that  he  reckoned  there'd  be  a  norther ; 


CAMP   GROCE.  117 

the  beeves,  he  said,  were  making  for  the  timber.  In 
Texas  it  is  an  establi  lied  fact  that  nobody  can  tell  any- 
thing about  the  weather,  so  we  gave  little  heed  to  the 
prediction.  Early  in  the  afternoon,  however,  some  one 
said  that  the  norther  was  in  sight.  The  day  was  warm ; 
the  sun  was  bright ;  birds  were  singing,  and  the  leaves 
still  were  green.  There  was  nothing  to  indicate  a  change 
save  a  black  cloud  rapidly  rising  in  the  north.  Our 
men  were  sitting  round  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  whittling 
and  working  as  usual,  and  every  thing  continued  plea- 
sant. The  black  cloud,  however,  bore  swiftly  down  upon 
us.  As  it  drew  near,  we  saw  an  immense  flock  of  turkey- 
buzzards  driven  before  it,  whirling  in  the  air  and  scream- 
ing wildly.  A  moment  later  the  breeze  struck  us.  It 
felt  not  unlike  the  gust  that  precedes  a  thunder-shower, 
but  as  I  watched  the  cloud  I  found  that  I  had  suddenly 
grown  cold.  I  had  heard  fearful  stories  of  these  northers, 
and  read  of  a  hardy  Yermonter,  who,  scorning  a  cold 
that  merely  skimmed  the  ponds  with  ice,  had  ventured 
out  in  one ;  and  how  his  blood  congealed,  and  he  was 
carried  back  by  his  horse  insensible.  I  saw  that  all 
the  men  had  gone  in,  and  that  the  sentries  had  wrap- 
ped themselves  in  their  blankets.  Within  the  shanty  I 
found  our  little  fire-place  bright  and  its  owners  sitting 
in  a  close  circle  around  it.  But  the  cold  seemed  to  beat 
directly  through  the  walls,  and  the  wind  blew  a  steady 
blast.  We  passed  all  the  long  evening  closely  crouched 
around  the  fire,  warming  first  one  side  and  then  the 
other,  talking  of  home  and  pitying  the  poor  wretches  in 


118  PRISON  CAMPS. 

the  barracks.  When  bed-time  came  we  carried  hot 
stones  with  us  into  our  bunks  and  hurried  to  bed  before 
we  should  be  chilled.  I  wrapped  myself  in  my  double 
army  blanket  with  which  I  had  braved  ice  and  snow 
and  then  rolled  myself  in  my  buifalo.  I  thought  it  suf 
ficient  for  an  Arctic  winter,  but  ere  morning  the  horrible 
cold  crept  in  and  penetrated  to  the  very  bones.  As  I 
moved  about  to  try  and  make  my  blood  circulate, 
Colonel  Burrill  spoke  and  said  that  he  was  so  cold  that 
he  feared  he  was  dying.  The  Colonel  had  been  quite 
ill,  and  this  startled  me  ;  so  I  rose,  threw  a  'coat  or  two 
upon  him,  and  then  drawing  the  blankets  over  his  head, 
tucked  them  tightly  in  and  left  him  to  take  the  chances 
of  suffocation  or  freezing.  I  went  back  to  my  own 
couch  and  shivered  away  till  morning.  The  cold  drove 
us  all  out  early,  and  we  met  again  around  our  fire-place. 
A  sailor  boy  brought  up  a  hot  breakfast,  for  cooking  over 
a  hot  stove  that  morning  was  a  high  privilege  which  no 
one  threw  away.  He  told  us  that  one  of  his  shipmates 
lay  frozen  in  his  bunk,  and  that  they  had  just  found  him 
there  dead.  During  the  morning  we  suspended  our 
blankets  from  the  rafters  so  as  to  form  a  little  tent  im- 
mediately around  the  fire,  and  there  in  darkness  we  sat 
the  live-long  day.  Another  dismal  evening  followed 
and  another  bitter  night.  Then,  after  thirty-six  hours  of 
fury,  the  norther  went  down  and  we  ventured  to  crawl 
out  and  resume  our  work. 


TEA.  J19 


VII. 

TEA. 

THERE  was  some  coffee  in  Camp  Groce,  when  wt 
arrived — not  much — and  a  little  was  bought  afterward 
for  "  morning  coffee,"  with  some  tea  for  the  sick,  at  fif 
teen  dollars  per  pound.  It  was  poor  stuff,  and  not  worth 
the  price. 

The  messes  that  I  found  there  used  corn ;  or,  as  they 
called  it,  corn  coffee.  This  was  made  from  the  meaL 
Burnt  in  a  frying-pan  upon  the  stove,  by  a  sailor-cook; 
some  particles  in  charcoal  and  some  not  singed  at  all,  it 
formed  a  grayish  compound,  and  made  as  horrible  a 
beverage  as  any  one  could  be  supposed  willing  to  drink. 
I  thought  at  first  that  I  would  go  back,  for  my  own  part, 
to  an  old  habit  of  cold  water ;  and  if  we  had  possessed 
pure  water  I  might  have  done  so.  But  our  well-water 
had  a  sulphurous  taste ;  and  then,  in  this  southern  cli- 
mate, there  is  an  insatiable  appetite  for  nervine  food. 
Thus  those  who  never  touched  pepper,  nor  cared  a  fig  for 
seasoning  and  spices  at  home  (not  because  they  disliked 
them,  but  because  they  thought  it  wisest  not  to  eat  what 
they  did  not  want),  have  had  a  constant  craving  in  the 
army  for  coffee,  tea,  and  spices,  and  for  the  bad  catsups, 


120  PRISON  CAMPS. 

and  worse  imitation  sauces,  that  sutlers  sell  and  soldiers 
buy.  So  I  drank  these  slops,  and,  like  the  others,  called 
them  coffee. 

A  little  mess,  indeed,  as  I  have  hinted,  applied  the 
Louisiana  lesson  we  had  learnt,  and  made  their  "morning 
coffee."  Turning  out  with  the  first  glimmer  of  dawn, 
we  ground  and  re-ground  exactly  twenty  of  the  precious 
berries,  watchful  that  not  one  should  be  lost,  nor  a  speck 
of  the  priceless  dust  spilt.  An  old  tin  cylinder,  with  a 
piece  of  flannel  bound  tightly  round  the  end,  formed  the 
strainer,  and  a  large-sized  tin  mug  our  coffee-pot ;  and  by 
keeping  a  week's  grounds,  at  least,  in  the  strainer,  it  was 
wonderful  what  strength  this  ingenious  apparatus  did 
extract. 

But  the  enterprising  Yankee  mind,  never  long  con- 
tented with  any  thing,  quarrelled  with  the  corn-meal 
coffee  and  proposed  a  change.  A  hardy  sailor,  of  New 
England  origin,  objected  to  the  meal,  and  insisted  that 
it  would  be  better  to  make  the  coffee  directly  out  of 
corn — we  should,  he  said,  get  all  the  flavor  then.  There 
was  a  furious  debate  over  this,  of  course,  for  the  enter- 
prising Yankee  mind  much  prefers  a  theory  to  a  fact. 
It  was  argued  on  the  one  side,  that  the  flavor  was  just 
what  you  did  not  want ;  that  corn  was  corn,  and  it  made 
no  difference  if  it  was  also  meal ;  and  that  it  was  much 
wiser  to  use  the  meal  and  thereby  make  the  enemy 
grind  our  coffee,  than  to  burn  the  corn  and  grind  it  our- 
selves. These  arguments  were  met  by  others  equally 
strong,  and  the  debate  continued  till  some  stupid  person 


TEA.  121 

of  Dutch  descent,  suggested  that  the  proof  of  the  pud- 
ding is  in  the  eating,  and  that  if  any  one  wanted  to  try 
corn  for  coffee,  he  might. 

We  traded  some  of  our  meal  ration  for  corn ;  the  corn 
was  burnt  and  ground  and  tried,  and  found  far  pre- 
ferable to  meal  and  all  other  substitutes.  Its  opponents 
drank  it,  and  our  little  coffee-mill  creaked  and  rattled 
at  all  hours  under  the  load  which  the  discovery  threw 
upon  it. 

A  further  improvement  was  effected,  for  it  was  dis- 
covered one  day,  that  the  outside  of  the  kernel  would  be 
well  parched,  while  the  inside  would  have  a  yellow,  un- 
done appearance.  The  fact  is,  it  was  impossible  to  roast 
it  through,  and  this  gave  to  the  coffee  a  raw,  mealy 
taste.  The  remedy  was  simple,  and  consisted  merely  in 
not  grinding  the  corn,  and  thus  using  only  the  outside  of 
the  kernel. 

We  thought  then  that  we  had  reached  the  perfection 
of  corn,  and  the  last  of  substitutes. 

There  was,  however,  a  tea  made  by  the  Texans  from 
the  leaves  of  a  half  bush,  half  tree,  called  yapon,  which 
was  said  to  taste  wonderfully  like  the  real.  They  drank 
it  three  times  a  day,  at  Captain  Buster's  head-quarters, 
and  many  of  the  sailors  followed  the  fashion.  Yet  it  had 
a  bad  name.  It  was  said,  that  it  caused  certain  unplea- 
sant medical  effects,  and  one  young  gentleman,  who  had 
once  taken  a  mug  full,  averred  that-  he  shortly  thereafter 
felt  a  burning  sensation  in  that  part  of  his  body  where 
he  supposed  (erroneously)  was  his  stomach. 

6 


122  PRISON  CAMPS. 

I  never  could  find  the  men  whom  it  was  said  to  have 
made  sick,  and  I  had  little  belief  in  the  rumor.  Yet,  as  I 
do  not  like  tea  except  when  ill,  there  was  little  induce- 
ment to  experiment  with  this  unknown,  untried  plant. 
Still  I  meant  to  test  it,  some  time  or  other,  as  a  matter 
of  scientific  curiosity,  and  if  it  were  like  the  Chinese 
plant,  to  carry  a  handful  home  for  the  edification  of  tea 
drinkers  there. 

This  "  some  time  or  other"  did  not  come,  probably  be- 
cause the  material  was  always  close  at  hand.  The 
yapon  grew  thickly  along  the  brook  and  up  to  the  bor- 
ders of  the  camp.  It  was  generally  from  ten  to  twenty 
feet  high,  and  as  thick  as  a  man's  arm ;  it  had  fur- 
nished us  with  nearly  all  the  poles  for  a  rustic  arbor, 
that  ran  along  the  sunny  side  of  the  barracks,  and  helped 
to  shade  and  cool  the  sick-bunks.  Its  branches^  too, 
had  been  used  to  fill  up  in  roofing  the  arbor,  and  there 
were  leaves  enough  there  to  furnish  an  army  with 
bohea. 

Thus  time  glided  away  under  the  influence  of  corn 
coffee,  till  one  day  it  was  said,  that  the  commanding 
officer  had  proclaimed  corn  coffee  unhealthy,  nay,  dan- 
gerous. There  were  then  numerous  medical  symptoms, 
all  pointing  forward  to  intermittent  fever  and  backward 
to  corn  coffee.  When  a  dozen  men  compare  notes,  and 
find  that  they  are  all  afflicted  in  the  same  way,  and 
never  in  their  lives  have  been  so  before,  it  alarms 
them. 

The  surgeon  was  informed  of  this,  and  he  thought 


TEA.  123 

there  must  be  something  in  it,  the  intermittent  cases  had 
increased  so  unaccountably.  As  we  thus  deliberated, 
Colonel  Sayles  came  up  and  we  consulted  him.  The 
Colonel  gave  his  facts  and  recommended  sweet  potatoes 
as  a  substitute  for  corn  and  coffee. 

"  Let  us  look  at  the  analysis,"  said  the  surgeon,  walk- 
ing into  his  office  and  taking  down  a  big  book. 

"  '  Corn  or  maize,  sometimes  called  Indian  corn.  This 
grain  is  cultivated  throughout  the  United  States.' ': 
"Yes,  we  know  that."  u<Its  analysis  shows  starch, 
sugar,  sulphate  of  lime?  That  must  be  the  agent  (if  any) 
which  is  doing  us  all  the  damage.  I  really  think  you  had 
better  follow  the  Colonel's  advice  and  take  up  the  sweet 
potatoes." 

"  Let  us  see  what  the  potato  has  in  it.  Doctor,  who 
knows  but  that  there's  some  other  atom  to  be  roasted 
into  poison  there  ?" 

"  Batata,  yes,  '  batata,  or  common  potato,'  <  seed  poi- 
sonous,' and  so  forth.  Analysis  sugar,  and  so  forth.  It 
has  the  sulphate  again  and  more  of  it  than  there  is  in 
corn.  That  will  never  do,  to  say  nothing  of  costing 
ten  dollars  a  bushel." 

October  was  drawing  toward  its  end  when  there  came 
a  "  wet  norther,"  and  with  it  a  sharp  frost,  ice  thick  as 
a  pane  of  glass — much  suffering — some  agues  and  count- 
less colds. 

The  "  norther  "  found  me  ill  with  a  periodical  return  of 
my  Louisiana  malarial,  and  brought  me  a  cold  of  the 
severest  kind.  It  blew  through  the  cracks  and  crannies 


124:  PRISON  CAMPS. 

of  the  barracks,  through  my  blankets  and  through  me. 
I  felt  as  though  my  blood  had  ceased  to  circulate  and  I 
should  never  be  warm  again. 

"  Try  some  of  Mr.  Fowler's  sumach,"  suggested  some 
one  ;  "  it  cured  my  cold." 

"  I  have  tried  everything,"  I  said,  "  and  find  the  only 
thing  is  prevention — nothing  cures  these  colds  with  me 
when  they  have  come." 

"  And  I  never  got  any  help  from  medicine,"  said  my 
friend.  "But  this  stuff  of  Fowler's  cured  mine  in  a 
night.  I  never  knew  any  thing  like  it." 

I  went  to  Mr.  Fowler  and  got  the  sumach  berries.  A 
cluster  or  two  thrown  in  a  quart  mug  of  boiling  water 
made  the  remedy.  It  was  fearfully  acid,  and  it  took 
fearful  quantities  of  sugar  to  make  it  palatable,  but  it 
then  had  quite  a  pleasant  taste  and  worked  (let  me  say 
for  the  benefit  of  the  victims  of  violent  catarrh)  a  miracu- 
lous cure. 

I  had  not  paid  much  attention  to  the  Acting  Master's 
simples,  having  no  great  faith  in  medicine  and  less  in 
herbs — but  this  with  the  dread  of  another  bilious  attack 
aroused  me  so  far  that  I  walked  round  the  barracks  and 
asked  after  the  livers  of  all  the  patients  who  had  been 
treated  with  his  wild  peach  bark.  These  livers  were 
found  to  be  in  a  highly  improved  condition,  and  think- 
ing it  fair  that  mine  should  have  a  share  in  all  the  medi- 
cal advantages  afforded  by  a  residence  in  Texas,  I  de- 
termined to  treat  it  also  to  wild  peach  bark. 

The  "  norther"  broke  on  the  second  day,  and  in  the 


TEA.  125 

after  noon  the  weather  was  much  like  the  last  part  of 
one  of  our  cold  nor'-easters.  The  rain  had  ceased,  but  the 
clouds  floated  gloomily  overhead  and  the  wind  blew 
coldly  from  the  north. 

"  Come,  Stratford,"  I  said,  "  I  am  a  convert  to  the 
Fowler  treatment,  and  shall  feel  the  better  for  a  little 
exercise.  Let  us  go  out  and  get  some  bark." 

"  Oh,  it's  too  cold  and  the  ground  will  be  muddy ;  you 
had  better  wait  till  to-morrow ;  it  will  be  fine  weather 
then." 

"  !N"o,  no,  to-morrow  you  will  be  at  work  on  the  chim- 
ney, and  this  is  a  broken  day  ;  let  us  go  now." 

"  Well,  if  you  will  get  the  patrol  we  will  go." 

I  walked  down  to  the  guard-house  and  represented  to 
the  sergeant  of  the  guard  the  importance  of  having  wild 
peach  bark  and  the  necessity  of  going  out  to  get  it. 

The  sergeant  first  raised  the  usual  difficulties  and  then 
gave  the  usual  order.  A  stout  gentleman,  who  helped 
himself  to  a  double-barrelled  gun,  informed  us  that  he 
would  go  as  Pat  Roll.  He  sketched  briefly  his  life 
for  us  by  stating  that  he  was  born  in  South  Carolina, 
raised  in  Alabama,  druv  stage  in  Florida,  and  sogered 
it  in  Texas.  He  also  expressed  the  opinion  that  Texas 
is  an  easy  country  to  live  in,  "  because  the  hogs  run  in 
the  woods  and  the  horses  run  out,"  and  he  intimated 
that  he  looked  with  great  contempt  on  those  parts  of  the 
world  where  the  hogs  eat  corn,  and  the  horses  live  in  the 
stable. 

As  I  was  still  weak  I  handed  my  axe  over  to  one  of 


126  PRISON  CAMPS. 

4 

the  others.  "We  crossed  the  brook  and  near  by  found  a 
wild  peach.  It  was  soon  cut  down,  and  we  proceeded 
as  usual  to  shave  off  the  bark  from  the  trunk  of  the  tree, 
and  then  pull  up  such  roots  as  would  come.  "When  this 
was  done  each  of  my  companions  loaded  himself  with 
an  unpealed  log,  while  I  took  the  axe  and  basket  of  bark. 
Thus  laden,  we  started  to  return. 

"  Since  we  are  working  for  the*  Herb  Department," 
said  I,  "  let  us  take  up  some  yapon  and  try  the  tea.  I 
wonder  if  I  can  cut  off  this  branch  with  one  hand  ?" 

A  well-leaved  branch  of  the  yapon  hung  over  the 
road,  bright  with  red  berries,  and  against  it  I  raised  the 
axe.  A  couple  of  blows  brought  it  down.  Mr.  Strat- 
ford added  it  to  his  load,  and  with  it  we  went  back  to 
our  quarters. 

A  day  or  two  passed,  during  which  the  weather  mod- 
erated. It  was  Saturday  afternoon,  and  I  was  sitting  in 
the  sun,  still  languid,  while  Mr.  Stratford  was  trying  to 
heat  red-hot  an  old  shovel  he  had  found,  in  order  that 
he  might  cut  off  its  rivets  and  fit  in  it  a  new  handle, 
when  the  thought  of  the  yapon  came  into  my  head. 
I  took  up  the  branch  and  began  to  pluck  off  the  leaves. 

"  Are  you  going  to  try  the  yapon  ?"  said  Lieutenant 
Sherman,  who  casually  came  in. 

"  Yes,  and  I  want  you  to  go  up  to  the  galley  and  dry 
the  leaves  ?" 

"  Oh,  why  don't  you  take  them  green  ?  That's  the 
way  the  sailors  do." 

"  True  !  but  the  sailors  are  not  remarkable  for  skill  in 


TEA.  127 

scientific  cookery,  and  I  think  a  decoction  of  any  green 
plant  must  differ  a  good  deal  from  that  of  a  dry  one." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  take  some  of  the  leaves  from 
the  arbor  ?" 

"  They  are  all  bleached  and  washed  to  pieces.  A 
horse  would  not  eat  hay  that  had  been  hung  up  in  the 
rain  and  dew  as  they  have.  Go  into  the  doctor's  office 
ancLget  his  Dispensatory,  and  we  will  prepare  them  as  the 
Chinese  do.  The  book  must  give  the  process  for  tea,  for 
I  was  looking  at  '  sweet  potatoes '  the  other  day,  and 
found  accidentally  that  it  is  very  full  on  the  making  of 
sugar." 

The  lieutenant  brought  the  book,  turned  to  the  article, 
and  read : 

uc  TEA.— The  plant  which  furnishes  tea.  Thea  Chi- 
nensis  is  an  evergreen  shrub,  belonging  to '  " 

"  Never  mind  the  botany,  we  do  not  mean  to  grow 
tea,  but  cure  it.  Go  over  to  the  manufacture." 

He  skipped  over  a  page  or  two  and  proceeded : 

"  clt  is  propagated  from  the  seeds.  In  three  years  the 
plant  yields  leaves  for  collection,  and  in  six  attains  the 
height  of  a  man.  When  from  seven  to  ten  years  old,  it 
is  cut  down,  in  order  that  the  numerous  shoots  which 
issue  from  the  stumps  may  afford  a  large  product  of 
leaves.  These  are  picked  separately  by  the  hand.  Three 
harvests,  according  to  Koempfer,  are  made  during  the 
year.  As  the  youngest  leaves  are  the  best,  the  product 
of  the  first  collection  is  most  valuable,  while  that  of  the 
third,  consisting  of  the  oldest  leaves,  is  comparatively 


128  PRISON   CAMPS. 

little  esteemed.  After  having  been  gathered,  the  leaves 
are  dried  by  artificial  heat  in  a  shallow  iron  pan.' " 

"  That's  a  shovel,"  said  Mr.  Stratford,  who  generally 
manufactured  the  most  of  our  small-wit,  and  who  had 
just  come  in  to  take  his  shovel  from  the  fire.  "  That's  a 
shovel — a  shovel  is  a  shallow  iron  pan." 

"  i  From  which,'  "  pursued  Lieutenant  Sherman,  read- 
ing, "  '  they  are  removed  while  still  hot,  and  rolled  with 
the  fingers  on  the  palm  of  the  hands,  to  be  brought  into 
the  form  in  which  they  are  found  in  commerce.' " 

"  All  right,"  said  Mr.  Stratford.  "  You  have  picked 
the  leaves  separately  by  the  hand.  I'll  dry  them  arti- 
ficially by  heat  in  a  shallow  iron  pan,  and  Sherman  can 
roll  them  with  the  finger  or  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  to 
bring  them  into  the  right  shape." 

He  drew  his  shovel  from  the  fire  as  he  spoke,  and 
after  knocking  off  the  loose  ashes,  threw  a  handful  of  the 
yapon  leaves  upon  it. 

"  These  leaves  won't  roll  up,"  said  Lieutenant  Sher- 
man, after  they  had  been  drying  a  few  minutes  on  the 
shovel.  "  They  crack  and  unroll  themselves." 

"  Yes,  but  they  are  old  leaves,  see  how  thick  they  are, 
and  the  berries  are  red  and  ripe.  Here  by  chance  is  a 
young  one ;  the  book  says,  you  know,  that  they  value 
the  young  leaves  most.  What  better  shape  could  you 
have  than  that — just  the  roll  of  a  tea-leaf." 

u  And  now,"  said  Mr.  Stratford,  "  that  they  are  arti- 
ficially dried  in  a  shallow  iron  pan,  Sherman,  put  the 
coffee-pot  on,  and  let's  all  take  tea." 


TEA.  *       129 

The  turn  affairs  had  taken  roused  in  me  rather  more 
than  usual  curiosity,  and  as  my  mug  was  filled,  I  exam- 
ined the  tea  with  rather  more  than  customary  care.  The 
aroma  was  that  of  poor  tea,  and  the  resemblance  was 
quite  striking,  making  me  more  curious  as  to  the  taste. 
I  cooled  it  down  as  rapidly  as  possible  and  took  a  sip. 
There  was  a  woody  taste,  but  through  this  came  the 
unmistakable  flavor  of  the  tea.  "  Who  knows  but  this 
is  a  discovery?"  I  thought,  and  so  I  said  emphatically : 

"  This  is  TEA." 

"  It  is  amazingly  like  it,  though  not  very  good."  " 

"  It  is  the  tea-plant  itself.  Sherman,  turn  back  to  the 
article  and  read  the  botany." 

The  lieutenant  re-opened  the  book  and  again  read. 

" '  The  plant  which  furnishes  tea,  Thea  Chinensis,  is 
an  evergreen  shrub.' ': 

"  This  is  an  evergreen  shrub.  See  how  bright  the 
leaves  are,  though  we  are  near  November." 

" '  Belonging  to  the  class  and  order  Monadelphia 
Polyandria,  of  the  sexual  system,  and  to  the  natural 
order  Ternstro?macece.' " 

"  I  think  this  is  Poly — what  do  you  call  it  ?"  said  Mr. 
Stratford,  encouragingly ;  "  and  I'm  sure  it  belongs  to 
the  natural  order." 

"  '  It  is  usually  from  four  to  eight  feet  high,  though 
capable,  in  a  favorable  situation,  of  attaining  the  height 
of  thirty  feet.' " 

"  Texas  is  a  favorable  situation,"  said  Lieutenant  Sher- 
man. "  I  can  find  one  that  comes  up  to  thirty  feet." 

6* 


130  PRISON  CAMPS. 

"  c  It  has  numerous  alternate  branches.' " 
"  So  has  the  yapon,  alternate  and  plenty  of  them." 
" '  Furnished    with    elliptical-oblong     or    lanceolate 
pointed  leaves.' ': 

"  These  are  elliptical,  oblong  and  pointed  leaves." 
"  <  Which  are  serrate,  except  at  the  base.' ?: 
"  These  are  serrate ;  and  let  me  see,  yes,  i  except  at 
the  base.'    Not  a  saw  tooth  there." 

"  '  Smooth  on  both  sides,  green,  shining,  marked  with 
one  rib  and  many  transverse  veins.' " 

"  '  Smooth  on  loth  sides,  green,  shining,  marked  with 
one  rib  and  many  transverse  veins ' — the  exact  descrip- 
tion. Do  look  at  them." 

"  '  And  supported  alternately  upon  short  foot-stalks.' " 
"  '  Supported  alternately  upon  short   foot-stalks ' — so 
they  are." 

"  *  They  are  two  or  three  inches  long  and  from  half  an 
inch  to  an  inch  in  breadth.' " 

"  These  are  little  more  than  half  the  size.  But  then 
the  book  is  describing  the  cultivated  plant,  and  this  is 
the  wild  one." 

"  '  The  flowers  are  either  solitary  or  supported  two  or 
three  together  at  the  axils  of  the  leaves.' ': 
"  What  a  pity  we  have  not  seen  the  flower !" 
"  The  berries,  though,  will  help  us  to  place  them. 
Here  they  are   *  solitary,'  yes,  and  'two  or  three  to- 
gether,' and  at  l  the  axils  of  the  leaves.' ': 

"  '  The  fruit  is  a  three-celled,  three-seeded  capsule." 
"  This  has  four,  but  I  think  that  is  not  material.    The 


TEA. 


persimmons,  for  instance,  have  seven  seeds  here  and  only 
two  or  three  in  New  Jersey." 

"  That,"  said  Mr.  Stratford,  still  encouragingly,  "  is 
because  Texas  is  such  a  seedy  place.  I've  grown  some1 
what  seedy  myself  since  I've  been  here." 

"  '  It  is  stated  that  the  odor  of  the  tea-leaves  them- 
selves is  very  slight.'  5! 

"  The  odor  of  these  is  very  slight,"  remarked  Mr.  Strat- 
ford, "  so  slight,  that  I  sometimes  imagine  I  don't  smell 
it  at  all." 

"  i  And  that  it  is  customary  to  mix  with  them  the 
leaves  of  certain  aromatic  plants,  such  as  Olea 


"  When  the  war  is  over,"  said  Mr.  Stratford,  in  con- 
clusion, "  we  will  get  some  olea  to  mix  with  it,  and  then 
it  will  be  all  complete.  And  now  let  us  hurrah  for  the 
great  American  tea.  You  can  stay  here  and  take  care 
of  the  plant,  and  I  will  go  home  (so  soon  as  I  can)  and 
get  up  a  great  Texan  Tea  Company. 


139  PRISON   CAMPS, 


VIII. 

CAMP    FOED. 

AUTUMN  was  drawing  to  a  close,  the  leaves  had  fallen 
from  the  trees,  the  grass  was  no  longer  green,  and 
prairie  and  timber  seemed  alike  bare  and  cold.  Still  no 
exchange  had  come.  We  knew  of  the  thirty-seven  thou- 
sand prisoners  taken  at  Yicksburg,  and  the  six  thousand 
taken  at  Port  Hudson,  and  therefore  we  listened  hope- 
fully to  rumors  of  exchange,  and  coined  a  few  of  our 
own,  and  remained  prisoners  of  war. 

"Within  the  prison-camp,  affairs  had  not  grown  brighter. 
There  was  increased  sickness  with  despondency  and  (for 
so  small  a  party)  many  deaths.  Two  Massachusetts 
officers  had  died  early.  Then  the  consumptive  lieuten- 
ant's light  had  flickered,  and  with  fitful  changes  grown 
more  and  more  dim,  until  it  softly  expired.  A  week 
later,  as  some  of  us  were  awaiting  impatiently  the 
breakfast-whistle  of  our  cook,  an  officer  ran  hurriedly 
past  to  the  guard-line,  and  calling  to  the  surgeon, 
said,  "  Come  quickly,  Doctor,  Lieutenant  Hayes  is 
dead !"  The  merry-hearted  Irishman  lay  in  his  ham- 
mock in  the  composure  of  an  easy  sleep.  His  light  had 
gone  out  in  a  single  instant.  Later,  our  friend,  Mr. 


CAMP  FORD.  133 

Parce,  grew  weaker.  An  order  came  to  send  the  "  citi- 
zen prisoners  "  to  Mexico  ;  it  did  not  revive  him.  Ilis 
strength  waned,  but  his  placid  cheerfulness  r/as  still  un- 
disturbed. "  It  is  a  bad  sign,"  said  one  cf  his  friends, 
"  if  he  were  only  cross  and  fretful,  wo  might  hope." 
The  sign  did  not  pass  away ;  and  with  the  prospect  of 
home  and  liberty  held  before  him  he  died.  "We  knew  that 
at  this  rate,  another  year  would  leave  very  few  survivors 
to  be  carried  from  the  camp. 

One  gloomy  evening,  as  we  sat  pondering  and  talking 
over  our  affairs,  rumor  came  in  and  told  us  a  new  tale. 
It  said  that  the  prisoners  were  to  be  paroled  and  sent 
forthwith  to  the  Federal  lines.  The  rumor  was  confirm- 
ed within  a  day  or  two  by  Major  Barnes  ;  but  when  the 
paroling  officer  came,  it  appeared  that  it  was  not  alto- 
gether true  ;  the  seamen  and  privates  were  to  be  pa- 
roled ;  the  officers  were  to  be  sent  to  Camp  Ford. 

It  behooved  us  now  to  find  ways  and  means  for  carry- 
ing our  remaining  effects  to  their  new  abode.  By  the 
aid  of  Major  Barnes  we  succeeded  in  chartering  two 
wagons  for  fifteen  hundred  dollars.  "We  also  secured  an 
old  hack  to  carry  Mrs.  Stratford  and  four  sick  officers  at 
fifty  dollars  apiece.  Some  of  us  strove  hard  to  purchase 
a  poor  horse  or  cheap  pony  that  would  carry  us  at  any 
gait.  In  this  race  honor  compels  me  to  confess  that  the 
effrontery  of  the  navy  completely  distanced  the  army. 
Early  one  morning  the  camp  rang  with  cries  of  "  Ilere'a 
yer  mule."  Through  the  admiring  throng  appeared  ah 
animal  of  that  description  towed  in  by  Captain  Billing- 


134:  PRISON   CAMPS. 

ham.  It  was  a  peculiar  animal — small,  old,  ugly,  vic- 
ious, and  one-eyed.  The  Captain  had  bought  him  oi\  our 
joint  account,  and  had  paid  for  him  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  in  the  currency  of  the  Confederate  States  of 
North  America.  This  alarmingly  low  price  was  due  to 
the  recent  loss  of  his  left  optic,  causing  a  dangerous  sore, 
which,  the  vendor  thought,  would  not  prove  fatal  before 
we  reached  Camp  Ford.  The  example  was  speedily 
followed  by  Captain  Crocker  of  the  "Clifton,"  who  bought 
another  mule,  and  by  Captain  Johnson  of  the  "  Sachem," 
who  bought  a  third,  and  by  Surgeon  Sherfy  of  the 
"  Morning  Light,"  who  bought  an  old  "  calico"  horse  that 
the  sailors  immediately  named  "  Quinine."  The  army, 
either  from  excess  of  modesty  or  excess  of  poverty,  did 
not  succeed,  I  regret  to  say,  in  buying  anything. 

"  Can  we  ride  there  on  a  mule  bare-back  2"  was  the 
question.  "  Decidedly  not,"  was  the  answer. 

Yet  a  good  saddle  in*  Texas  would  cost  as  much  as  a 
good  horse.  In  this  state  of  doubt  we  were  relieved  by 
purchasing  of  a  contraband  an  old  wooden  "  tree  "  with 
a  strap  or  two  and  a  piece  of  raw-hide  hanging  to  it.  It 
bore  about  the  same  relation  to  a  saddle  that  a  pair  of 
old  wheels  do  to  a  cart.  But  we  went  to  work.  And 
here  again  the  army  was  eclipsed  by  the  navy.  I  had 
been  a  cavalry  officer,  and  thought  I  knew  a  .thing  or 
two  about  broken  saddles,  and  accounted  myself  fertile 
in  such  expedients,  but  the  Captain  borrowed  a  sailor's 
needle  and  palm-thimble ;  brought  out  an  old  marlin- 
spike  and  some  rope,  and  stitched  and^  spliced  with  a 


CAMP  FOKD.  135 

neatness  and  rapidity  tliat  threw  me  in  the  shade.  Trunk 
straps  were  speedily  transferred  and  changed  into  girths, 
some  rope  was  spliced  and  lashed  around  a  wooden  shoe 
till  it  became  a  stirrup,  and  pieces  of  raw-hide  were 
bound  to  the  "tree"  till  it  fairly  grew  to  be  a  saddle. 

As  the  time  of  departure  approached  another  subject 
engrossed  our  attention.  Eating  continued  to  be  the 
chief  thought  and  passion  of  our  lives.  "Whatever  could 
be  bought  to  eat  we  bought.  Our  stoves  ran  literally 
night  and  day  in  baking  hard-tack ;  and  we,  duly  in- 
structed by  a  professional  cracker-baker,  pounded  dough 
till  our  arms  ached. 

There  was  still  another  subject  of  interest  to  many. 
A  large  part  of  the  officers  belonged  either  to  the  navy 
or  to  new  regiments.  They  were  entirely  innocent  of 
having  slept  out  a  night  in  their  lives,  and  knew  noth- 
ing of  marches  and  bivouacs.  The  fuss  which  they  made 
about  this  expected  movement  was  in  the  highest  degree 
amusing  to  those  who,  by  virtue  of  a  year  or  two's  ser- 
vice, dubbed  themselves  veterans.  They  looked  on  with 
smiles  as  they  saw  the  others  making  good  blankets  into 
poor  shelter-tents,  and  winked  to  each  other  when  they 
heard  the  new  men  confidently  assure  one  another  that 
they  could  stand  it  now,  even  if  there  should  be  a  wet 
night  upon  the  march.  5 

After  some  delay  there  came  in  five  or  six  impressed 
wagons  and  a  squadron  of  stalwart  men  mounted  on 
large,  well-fed  horses.  They  were  chiefly  stock  breeders 
from  the  prairies,  and  boasted  of  being  the  best  mounted 


136  PBISON  CAMPS. 

troop  in  Texas.  All  of  these  men  owned  the  horses  they 
rode,  and  many  brought  with  them  a  led  horse  and  ser- 
vant. They  were  supposed  to  be  men  of  unquestionable 
secession  sentiments,  and  were  employed  chiefly  in  hunt- 
ing down  conscripts  and  guarding  prisoners. 

On  the  ninth  of  December  our  seamen  and  privates 
left  us,  and  we  were  notified  to  be  ready  on  the  eleventh. 
Our  two  wagons  came  down — a  quantity  of  yapon  was 
gathered  and  dried — a  last  baking  of -biscuit  was  made, 
and  our  stoves  were  duly  incased  in  open  boxes  with 
beckets  so  as  to  be  readily  loaded  and  unloaded. 

A  move  is  always  interesting ;  after  months  of  dreary 
idleness  it  is  exciting.  Happy  did  we  seenl,  and  happy 
did  we  feel  as  on  the  cold,  foggy  morning  we  marched 
down  the  "  wood-road,"  crossed  the  little  brook,  and  left 
Camp  Groce  at  last  behind  us.  The  new  Captain — a 
tall,  powerful  Texan,  with  a  determined  eye  and  stern, 
compressed  lips — evidently  understood  his  business.  He 
kept  us  well  together,  managed  his  own  men  with  few 
words  and  great  judgment,  and  watched  the  column 
with  close  vigilance.  The  one-eyed  mule  behaved  with 
gravity  and  decorum,  never  showing  any  unnecessary 
signs  of  life  or  unseemly  gayety,  except  once  when  he 
slipped  his  bridle  and  ran  away  like  a  deer. 
*  Before  three  o'clock  we  went  into  camp  on  a  little 
brook  called  "  Kane's  Creek."  Thanks  to  the  autumn 
rains,  there  was  some  water  in  the  "  creek,"  and  thanks 
to  the  December  frosts,  it  was  clear  and  cold.  The  pro- 
ceedings of  our  naval  friends  were  a  new  chapter  in  my 


CAMP  FOED.  137 

experience  of  bivouacs.  Notwithstanding  the  clear  sky 
and  roaring  camp-fires,  edifices  called  shelter-tents  were 
erected,  with  an  immense  amount  of  consultation  and 
anxiety.  Heavy  mattresses  were  unpacked  from  the 
wagons  and  lugged  to  the  tents.  Stoves  were  unloaded 
and'  put  up  under  trees,  where  they  soon  smoked  and 
steamed  as  did  the  excited  cooks  who  hovered  around 
them.  So  elaborate,  indeed,  was  the  dinner  of  our 
mess,  that  the  short  winter  day  closed  ere  Lieutenant 
Dane  doffed  his  apron,  and  summoned  us  to  our  seats 
around  the  camp-fire.  By  its  light  I  saw  a  sirloin  of 
roast  beef,  a  large  piece  of  corned,  sweet  potatoes,  corn 
bread  and  butter,  flap-jacks  and  sauce,  tea,  coffee  and 
cake. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?"  asked  somebody,  as  I  drew 
out  my  pencil  and  note-book.  "  I  thought  you  never 
took  notes ;  it  was  only  an  hour  ago  you  were  telling 
me  that  a  note-book  spoils  a  good  traveller." 

"  I  am  noting  down  this  bill  of  fare.  After  my  rough 
experience  in  our  army  of  the  West,  this  dinner  seems 
too  ridiculous  to  be  believed." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  publish  it  in  the  newspapers 
when  you  get  out  ?"  . 

"  Yes,  I  rather  think  I  shall." 

"  Well,  it's  the  last  of  the  pepper,"  said  the  caterer, 
"  so  mind  and  put  it  down." 

"  Yes,  by  all  means." 

"  And  they  say  we  can  buy  no  sugar  at  Tyler,"  said 
another ;  "  so  mind  and  put  ^ 

"  Certainly ;  anything  else  ?" 


138  PRISON   CAMPS. 

"  There's  some  salt,  and  there's  a  hard-tack.  Perhaps 
you  think  they  are  luxuries.  And  here's  a  candle, 
moulded  in  the  neck  of  a  bottle — hadn't  you  better  men- 
tion it?" 

"  I  think  I  had — the  mould  was  so  ingenious.  You 
remember  I  invented  it  myself." 

"  You  haven't  exposed  the  fact  that  it's  our  last  pound 
of  coffee,  treasured  up  for  this  Journey  ?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Nor  that  the  tea  grew  in  Texas  ?" 

« JSTo." 

"  Don't — a  few  such  secrets  exposed  will  destroy  the 
whole  effect  of  the  bill.  And  now,  if  the  dinner  isn't 
too  much  for  you,  let  us  box  up  the  stove,  while  those 
delicate  young  gentlemen  wash  the  dishes." 

So  we  boxed  up  the  stove,  and  washed  the  dishes,  and 
lit  our  pipes,  and  sat  looking  in  the  glowing  camp-fire. 
And  then  our  three  naval  Captains  crawled  into  a  tight 
little  shelter-tent,  where  they  suffocated  and  perspired, 
and  caught  cold.  The  army  part  of  the  mess  spread 
their  blankets  and  lay  down,  with  their  feet  against  a 
smoking  log,  their  heads  resting  on  their  knapsacks,  and 
their  eyes  watching  the  stars,  which  twinkled  them 
asleep. 

The  bugle  called  us  long  before  daylight  to  prepare 
our  breakfast  and  re-load  the  wagons.  I  cannot  pay 
Captain  Davis  a  better  compliment,  than  by  saying  that 
for  five  successive  mornings  we  moved  off  at  precisely 
6-45,  and  then  for  six  successive  mornings  at  precisely 
seven.  This  day  the  road  ran  over  some  fine  rolling 


CAMP  FORD.  139 

country,  occasionally  clean  and  park-like,  with  stately 
trees  sprinkled  liere  and  there,  and  entirely  free  from 
young  wood  and  underbrush.  The  weather  was  delight- 
ful, but  we  went  into  camp  before  two  o'clock,  after  a 
march  of  only  fourteen  miles. 

The  next  morning  as  we  started,  a  cold  gust  of  north 
wind  struck  us.  It  was  not  a  "  norther,"  but  a  sudden 
change  of  weather  from  warm  to  cold.  All  the  morning 
we  breasted  it,  and  it  blew  keener  and  keener  as  the  day 
advanced.  Early  in  the  afternoon  we  encamped  in  an 
open  wood,  which  gave  bu-t  poor  shelter  from  the  pierc- 
ing gale.  The  little  stream  that  formed  our  watering 
place  was  coated  with  ice,  and  the  ice  grew  thicker  with 
each  hour.  We  set  ourselves  at  the  work  of  unloading 
the  wagons  and  the  heavier  work  of  chopping  wood  for 
the  large  camp-fire  that  must  burn  all  night.  The  stove 
went  up  and  puffed  and  steamed  as  usual,  and  all 
endeavored  to  impress  upon  the  mind  of  our  amateur* 
chef  that  this  extreme  cold  was  only  an  additional  reason 
that  we  should  eat.- 

-"While  we  were  fresh  from  a  sharp  walk,  with  the 
blood  stirred  by  the  active  labors  of  the  camp,  we  were 
comfortable  enough.  When  we  first  threw  ourselves 
down  before  the  fire  all  aglow,  saying  we  were  thank- 
ful that  the  work  was  done,  we  still  felt  indifferent 
to  the  cold  north  wind.  But  presently  it  crept  in,  and 
sent  a  shivering  chill  over  the  frame.  Then  the  nervous 
energy  relaxed,  and  one  felt  great  need  of  a  warm  room 
where  he  could  hide  himself  from  the  blast,  and  fall 


140  PRISON  CAMPS. 

asleep  if  only  for  an  hour.  The  dinner  and  the  hot  tea 
that  accompanied  it  braced  us  up  somewhat,  and  fitted 
us  for  bed.  Our  three  naval  friends  again  crawled  into 
their  shelter  tent,  where  (inasmuch  as  it  was  at  a  pru- 
dent distance  from  the  fire)  they  nearly  froze  to  death. 
The  remainder  of  the  mess  used  the  shelter-tent,  a  lar^e 

'  O 

tree  and  the  stove-box  as  a  wind-break,  and  put  their 
feet  almost  in  the  fire.  For  some  hours  we  all  slept 
soundly,  as  men  must  who  have  matched  and  worked 
since  long  before  day.  But  although  the  blankets  were 
drawn  over  our  heads  and  the  wind-break  seemed  to 
afford  ample  protection,  the  cutting  air  pushed  its  way 
in.  It  crawled  through  the  hair  and  curled  itself  round 
the  neck,  and  sent  the  same  shivery  chills  over  the  body. 
I  rose  and  warmed  myself  by  rolling  a  couple  of  large 
logs  on  the  fire,  and  prizing  them  into  their  places.  The 
scene  around  me  was  wild  in  the  extreme,  for  every 
*mess  had  built  a  large  fire,  and  the  flames  of  these 
leaped  and  roared  in  the  blast,  and  sent  large  sparks 
flying  through  the  tree-tops;  while  in  the  fiery  light, 
picturesque  figures  could  be  seen  crouching  over  the 
embers  or  throwing  fresh  wood  into  the  flames. 

The  bugle  again  called  us  up,  while  the  stars  were  yet 
shining,  to  find  the  dodger  we  had  baked  over  night,  and 
the  cold  beef  we  had  put  by  for  breakfast,  frozen  harder 
than  paving  stones.  Close  seated  by  the  fire,  we  ate  a 
moody  breakfast,  each  one  declaring  that  he  had  not 
slept  one  hour  during  the  night,  and  that  he  wanted  to 
turn  in  again.  Instead  of  doing  so,  we  took  the  road, 


CAMP  FORD.  141 

now  solid  as  a  rock.  The  horses  had  to  stamp  through 
the  ice  to  drink,  and  the  "  Sunny  South  "  seemed  frozen 
hard  as  the  hills  of  the  Adirondack. 

Passing  through  Huntsville,  we  found  ourselves  upon 
a  sandy  road,  and  travelling  through  dull  woods,  whose 
weary  sameness  lasted  with  hardly  an  interruption  for 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  Toward  evening  we 
encamped  beside  a  deep  ravine.  The  clouds  gathered 
darkly  overhead,  and  the  rain  began  to  fall.  It  bore  all 
the  appearances  of  one  of  our  cold  Norember  storms, 
and  we  anticipated  a  tempestuous  night.  But  then 
came  one  of  the  phenomena  of  the  Texan  climate.  With 
darkness  the  rain  stopped ;  and  the  stars  seemed  to  dis- 
perse the  clouds.  But  with  daylight  the  clouds  returned, 
and  as  we  re-commenced  the  march,  the  rain  came  down 
heavily.  The  matter  was  made  worse  by  our  imme- 
diately descending  to  the  "Trinity  bottom,"  a  rich, 
alluvial  plain,  three  miles  in  width,  composed  of  the 
greasiest  of  mud.  "When  we  had  dragged  ourselves 
across  this,  we  were  suddenly  stopped  by  the  Trinity, 
a  narrow  stream,  deep  channelled  between  precipitous 
clay  banks.  A  road  was  cut  down  each  bank,  and  the 
usual  scow  and  rope-ferry  appeared  at  the  bottom.  The 
prisoners  who  first  arrived  on  foot  were  immediately 
carried  over.  They  scrambled  up  the  opposite  bank  and 
instantly  made  a  fire,  around  which  they  closely  hud- 
dled. As  the  wagons  arrived,  they  were  hurried 
aboard  of  the  scow,  for  every  moment  made  matters 
worse.  A  crowd  of  men  surrounded  each  wagon  as  it 


142  PRISON  CAMPS. 

landed,  pushing,  pulling,  yelling,  and  in  various  ways 
"  encouraging  the  mules."  Those  extraordinary  animals 
pulled  and  strained  and  slipped ;  now  down,  now  up 
again,  exhausted,  and  then  renewing  their  efforts,  until 
slowly  and  inch  by  inch  every  wagon  was  carried  to 
the  top  of  the  bank.  The  scow  covered  with  mules  and 
white-topped  wagons,  the  struggling  teams,  the  shout- 
ing men,  the  howling  of  the  wind,  the  beating  of  the 
rain,  all  made  up  a  romantic  picture.  But  the  toil  we 
paid  for  it  was  extreme,  and  the  crossing  of  this  narrow 
river  cost  us  two  hours  of  time. 

We  stopped  at  two  houses  after  crossing,  to  make  some 
purchases.  At  the  first,  the  lady  of  the  house  (a  rather 
stout  female,  with  a  coarse  voice  and  red  face)  had  lost 
neither  children  nor  relatives  in  the  war,  but  neverthe- 
less cherished  a  holy  hatred  of  Yankees.  When  she 
learnt  that  we  were  of  that  despised  race,  and  had  come 
into  her  house  to  buy  something,  her  wrath  became  ter- 
rific. It  even  overpowered  the  irresistible  effrontery  of 
the  navy.  Two  of  our  Captains,  who  between  them  had 
never  failed  to  win  the  Texan  fair,  assayed  her,  but  the 
humor  of  the  one  and  the  blandishments  of  the  other 
were  sent  spinning  about  their  ears.  "Josiah,"  she 
said  to  her  abashed  husband,  while  she  quivered  with 
rage,  u  don't  sell  them  anything,  the  nasty  beasts,  I 
didn't  know  I  hated  them  so.  Don't  sell  the  beasts  a 
thing.  Corn  meal  is  too  good  for  them."  He,  poor 
man,  said  "  no,"  but  when  our  two  naval  commissaries 
got  him  alone,  they  made  mince-meat  of  his  scruples  in 


CAMP  FORD.  143 

no  time.  He  hurriedly  shovelled  a  bushel  of  potatoes 
into  their  bag,  received  his  five  dollars,  and  begged  them 
to  leave  by  the  side  door,  as  most  convenient  and  least 
exposed  to  observation. 

At  the  other  of  these  houses,  the  woman  had  lost  two 
sons  in  battle.  "When  she  learnt  that  some  of  her  visitors 
were  enemies  and  prisoners,  she  only  hastened  to  express 
her  pity.  She  spread  her  simple  board  with  all  that  her 
larder  contained,  and  made  them  sit  down.  Of  some 
little  articles,  such  as  milk  and  butter  and  eggs,  she  liter- 
ally gave  them  all  she  had.  Other  things  that  they 
wished  to  purchase,  she  sold — she  offered  to  give,  but 
they  forced  the  money  upon  her.  And  when  they  rose 
to  go,  she  expressed  again  her  sympathy,  and  hoped  that 
God  would  be  with  them,  and  comfort  them,  and  send 
them  deliverance. 

When  we  were  fairly  across  the  river,  and  well 
drenched,  the  rain  stopped,  and  the  freezing  north  wind 
began  to  blow.  Colder  and  colder  it  grew;  and  when 
we  passed  from  the  woods  to  the  last  prairie  we  were  to 
see,  we  had  to  face  a  gale.  We  struggled  against  this 
for  miles,  until,  late  in  the  afternoon,  there  appeared,  on 
the  other  side  of  the  plain,  a  little  stage-house,  and  be- 
yond it  timber  of  scraggy  trees,  small  and  scattered.  It 
was  a  poor  place  to  bivouac,  but  the  scarcity  of  water 
in  this  arid  country  leaves  travellers  little  choice  of 
camping  grounds.  We  halted,  therefore,  in  this  bleak 
spot,  and  speedily  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  it  would 
be  "  the  coldest  night  yet."  The  stove  was  unloaded  as 


14:4  PRISON  CAMPS. 

usual,  and  "  put  up ;"  its  pipe,  lashed  to  a  sapling  to  keep 
it  from  blowing  away,  and  some  stove  wood  chopped. 
Our  indefatigable  chef  then  assumed  command,  and, 
despite  wind  and  cold,  proceeded  to  roast  a  lovely  loin 
of  delicate  pork,  purchased  of  the  good  woman  of  the 
morning,  and  to  serve  it  up  at  the  proper  time  with  de- 
licious brown  crackling  and  entrancing  hot  gravy.  Be- 
fore that  rapturous  moment  came  there  was  much  work 
to  be  done.  The  wood  had  to  be  dragged  some  distance, 
for  the  trees  were  sparse,  and  on  such  a  night  the  fire 
must  be  fed  with  no  sparing  hand.  The  water  had  to  be 
carried,  and  it  was  a  half-mile  distant  and  at  the  bottom 
of  a  well  two  hundred  feet  deep.  A  tedious  job  was 
this,  and  one  that  seemed  as  though  it  would  never  end. 
The  pails,  the  tea-kettle  and  the  iron-pot  were  all  mus- 
tered and  carried  to  the  well,  but  others  were  there  be- 
fore us,  and  we  had  to  wait  our  turn.  Yery  slowly  the 
bucket  came  creeping  up  while  we  stood  shivering  in  the 
wind,  and  when  it  appeared  it  was  half  empty,  and  a 
dozen  pails  were  waiting  to  be  filled  before  the  first  of 
ours.  At  last  when  tea-kettle,  pot  and  pails  were  full, 
and  we  were  nearly  perished,  we  picked  them  up  and 
navigated  them  through  the  thick  brush-wood  and 
against  the  bitter  wind  till  the  ungloved  hands  were 
nearly  frozen  to  the  iron  handles,  and  the  stiff  arms 
ready  to  drop  off.  Then,  too,  our  chef,  like  all  great 
artists  in  that  most  useful  art,  was  cross,  and  asked  in- 
dignantly why  we  had  not  comeback  sooner — if  it  was 
so  pleasant  down  at  that  well  that  we  must  stay  there 


CAMP   FOED.  145 

all  day — if  we  did  not  know  that  nothing  could  be  done 
without  water — if  we  could  not  understand  that  the 
lovely  loin  of  pork  was  well  nigh  spoilt  already.  "VVe, 
who  were  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water,  bore  all 
this  meekly  and  explained.  Our  chef,  though  an  ama- 
teur, was  about  as  reasonable  as  an  accomplished  female 
of  the  same  profession,  and  would  hear  no  explanation. 
He  knew  that  if  he  had  gone  he  would  have  found  a 
way  to  get  it.  We  secretly  expressed  to  each  other 
sympathy  for  scullions,  waiters,  and  other  unfortunate 
persons  having  business  relations  with  cooks — we  crouch- 
ed down  by  the  fire  and  thawed  our  frozen  fingers — and 
then  the  chef  sent  us  back  to  the  well  for  more  water. 

"  Now  spread  the  night  her  spangled  canopy, 
And  summon'd  every  restless  eye  to  sleep." 

The  stove  was  down  and  ready  to  be  repacked — the 
water  pails  (re-filled)  stood  close  before  the  fire — the 
stove  box,  the  mess-chest  and  the  shelter-tent  again  were 
united  for  a  wind-break — all  our  night  work  was  done, 
and  there  was  no  reason  why  we  should  not  sleep.  ~No 
reason  but  this  bitter  north- wind,  before  which  the  flames 
of  all  the  surrounding  fires  leaned  down  and  the  sparks 
flew  level  along  the  ground.  And  those  fires,  too,  seem- 
ed trivial  and  feeble;  the  logs  that  were  piled  upon 
them  were  as  heavy  as  two  men  could  lift,  yet  were  not 
large  enough  for  such  a  night  as  this.  Again  and  again 
we  woke,  aching  with  the  cold ;  and  again  and  again, 
after  crouching  over  the  fire,  we  returned  wearily  to  our 

7 


146  PRISON  CAMPS. 

blankets  and  sought  to  steal,  ere  the  reveille,  a  little 
rest. 

"The  purple  morning  left  her  crimson  bed, 

And  donn'd  her  robe  of  pure  vermilion  hue, 
Her  amber  locks  she  crowned  with  roses  red 
In  Eden's  flowery  gardens  gathered  new." 

And  we  resumed  the  march  with  blue  noses  and  frost- 
ed beards.  The  wagons  rumbled  over  the  frozen  ground 
as  upon  a  rock ;  the  horses  shivered  and  shook  more 
pitiably  than  their  riders.  There  was  unwonted  courtesy 
amongst  us.  "  Do  try  my  mule  a  little  while."  "  No, 
I  thank  you ;  I  could  not  think  of  depriving  you  of  him 
this  morning."  And  then  the  owner,  not  to  be  outdone, 
would  dismount,  and  run  along  behind  his  mule  with, 
much  stamping  of  the  feet  and  beating  of  the  hands. 
Comparatively  happy  then  were  those  wealthy  individ- 
uals who  owned  gloves,  or  who  wore  something  thicker 
than  a  summer  blouse.  Yet  the  biting  air  wrought  its 
own  cure  among  the  foot  passengers  and  gave  them  an  ex- 
hilaration that  beat  down  its  benumbing  pain ;  the  thread- 
bare, ragged  and  half-naked  crowd,  shivering  in  summer 
clothing,  uttered  no  whinings,  but  bravely  pushed  along, 
rejoicing  that  broken  boots  and  tattered  garments  still 
held  together,  and  wishing  only  that  they  could  keep  on 
against  the  north  wind,  till  they  reached  the  North. 
Less  happy  were  the  few  who,  seated  in  the  old  hack, 
rode  glum  and  testy  with  upheaved  shoulders  and  stiff 
necks,  and  mile  after  mile  spoke  never  a  word. 

Thus,  after  seven  hours'  steady  marching,  wo  turned 


CAMP  FOKD.  147 

from  the  road  and  went  down  into  a  little  hollow  where 
a  small  rill  furnished  us  with  water,  and  good  large  trees 
with  firewood.  Here  the  members  of  our  mess,  partly  to 
make  up  for  the  previous  night,  and  partly  in  the  hope 
of  attaining  comfort,  built  a  fire,  which  (among  them- 
selves) gave  to  the  place  the  name  of  the  "  Camp  of  the 
Big  Fire." 

We  were  first  on  the  camping  ground,  and  chose  our 
tree,  a  dry  oak  more  than  two  feet  across  the  stump. 
Giving  due  notice  to  all  that  they  had  better  stand  from 
under,  the  commander  of  the  "  Sachem  "  swung  a  strong 
axe  against  it  till  it  fell.  The  two  largest  logs  were 
chopped  off,  each  twelve  or  fourteen  feet  long.  Skids 
were  cut  and  laid,  and  every  man,  provided  with  a  stiff 
handspike,  lifted  and  strained  till  the  largest  log  was 
raised,  "  cut  round,"  rolled,  re-rolled  and  placed  against 
its  own  stump  as  a  brace.  The  skids  were  then  hauled 
out  and  re-laid ;  and  the  second  log  was  brought  oppo- 
site to  the  first.  The  skids  were  next  made  into  an  in- 
clined plane,  and  we,  by  stout  pushing,  rolled  the  second 
log  up*  this  bridge  until  it  rested  on  top  of  the  first.  We 
then  had  a  solid  wooden  wall  nearly  five  feet  high.  In 
front  we  placed  huge  andirons  of  logs  as  thick  as  a  man's 
body.  On  these  we  rolled  smaller  logs,  and  piled  limbs 
and  small  wood  until  the  whole  sloped  down  from  the 
top  of  the  wall  to  a  line  six  or  seven  feet  distant  from  its 
base.  We  worked  until  the  whole  tree  was  in  the  pile. 
Then  we  set  fire  to  it.  It  kindled  slowly,  but  burnt 
gloriously.  There  was  no  rolling  out  of  our  blankets 


14:8  PBISON  CAMPS. 

that  night  to  put  wood  on  the  fire.  "We  could  feel  our 
wooden  wall  throwing  its  rays  down  upon  us  as  we  lay 
before  it  on  the  frozen  ground.  It  let  no  heat  pass 
through,  for  while  one  side  was  a  mass  of  red-hot  embers 
the  ice  had  not  melted  from  the  other.  We  slept  until 
the  bugle  called  us*  in  the  morning,  and  then  found 
that  a  little  rolling  together  of  half-burnt  logs  and  a 
slight  shaking  up  of  unfinished  brands  gave  us  a  splendid 
fire  to  breakfast  by. 

Thus  we  went  on,  until  upon  the  twelfth  day  of  our 
march  we  passed  through  the  little  town  of  Tyler  and  ap- 
proached Camp  Ford.  "We  felt  some  curiosity  as  to  the 
appearance  and  comfort  of  this  new  abode.  The  ques- 
tion put  to  travellers  whom  we  met  always  brought  the 
reply  that  the  prisoners  were  in  houses  quite  comforta- 
ble. In  houses  prisoners  might  well  be  comfortable — 
much  better  to  have  houses  than  the  dismal  barracks  of 
Camp  Groce.  At  last  the  road  wound  round  a  little 
knoll,  covered  with  pine  and  scraggy  oak  and  disclosed 
the  camp.  We  saw  on  a  side-hill  a  barn-yard  of  a  place, 
encompassed  by  a  stockade  fence  fifteen  feet  high. 
Within,  partly  burrowed  and  partly  built,  was  an  irregu- 
lar group  of  log  shanties,  small,  dark  and  dirty.  A 
naval  friend  stood  at  my  side,  who  had  been  confident 
that  we  should  find  everything  to  our  liking,  and  whose 
motto  was  "  Nothing  is  too  good  for  prisoners."  I 
glanced  at  him  and  saw  that,  since  I  last  looked,  his 
countenance  had  grown  immeasurably  longer.  A  lieu- 
tenant of  my  regiment  was  on  the  outside  of  the  stockade 


CAMP  FORD.  149 

waiting  to  welcome  me.  He  was  a  young  and  neat 
N"ew- Yorker  when  I  last  saw*  him,  but  his  dress  now 
Consisted  of  a  pair  of  ragged  trowsers  and  an  old  woolen 
shirt  without  arms. 

"  What  kind  of  times  have  you  fallen  upon,  Mr.  L?" 
1  asked. 

"  ISTot  very  good,  Colonel,"  he  replied,  rather  dolefully, 
and  then  brightening  added,  "  But  we  have  very  good 
quarters — at  least  for  prisoners  /" 

My  naval  friend  looked  at  the  lieutenant  sternly  and 
with  disgust.  He  never  forgave  that  speech. 

The  roll  was  called.  We  were  marched  forward.  The 
gate  opened  and  admitted  us  to  seven  months  more  of 
imprisonment.  Within  every  thing  looked  gloomy  and 
squalid.  My  own  officers  I  hardly  recognized ;  the  others 
bore  in  their  dress  and  mien  the  unmistakable  marks  of 
hardship  and  destitution.  A  Captain  in  my  regiment 
came  up,  and  after  the  usual  greetings  invited  me  into 
his  "  shebang  "  and  to  dinner.  I  walked  in  and  looked 
around,  I  fear  with  some  disgust.  A  dodger  had  just 
been  turned  out  of  its  pan  and  cut  up. 

"  I  can't  stay  to  dinner,  Captain,"  I  said  ;  "  we  have  a 
wagon  to  unload  ;  but  I'll  try  a  piece  of  the  dodger." 

I  took  a  piece  and  walked  out.  The  gentlemen  of  the 
"  shebang  "  said  nothing,  latf  afterward  there  was  a 
story  told  of  the  affair.  It  was  this  : 

"  The  dodger  was  the  whole  of  the  dinner." 


150  PRISON  CAMPS. 


IX. 

A    DINNER. 

THE  prisoners  at  Camp  Ford  were  poor.  They  even 
thought  themselves  too  poor  to  borrow.  They  possessed 
no  supplies  to  sell ;  and  in  manufactures  they  had  not 
risen  above  carved  pipes  and  chessmen.  They  lived  on 
their  rations  and  cooked  those  rations  in  the  simplest 
manner.  Half  of  them  had  no  tables,  and  more  than 
half  no  table  furniture.  The  plates  and  spoons  did 
treble  duty,  travelling  about  from  "shebang"  to  "she- 
bang" (as  they  called  the  hovels  they  had  built)  in 
regular  succession. 

We  rated  them  soundly  about  their  condition,  and 
asked  them  why  they  had  lived  thus ;  to  which  they 
responded  by  asking  us  how  they  could  have  lived 
otherwise.  We  lectured  them  severely  on  their  not  hav- 
ing begged,  and  above  all,  on  their  not  having  bor- 
rowed ;  and  they  answered,  meekly,  that  no  one  would 
lend  them.  We  lent  them  money,  but  they  received  it 
timidly,  and  expressed  fears  that  they  would  not  be 
able  to  re-pay  it,  and  doubts  as  to  whether  there  was 
anything  to  buy.  "  Nobody  ever  had  anything  to  sell," 
they  said,  "  about  Tyler." 


A    DINNER.  151 

A  few  days  had  passed  in  the  work  of  improving  our 
"  shebang,"  and  we  sat  one  night  around  the  fire 
moodily,  talking  over  the  state  of  our  affairs.  "We  were 
in  the  midst  of  the  Christmas  holidays,  and  the  contrasted 
scenes  of  home  pressed  rather  heavily  upon  us,  and  made 
the  present,  perhaps,  seem  darker  than  it  really  was. 

"  Something  must  be  done,"  said  some  one,  "  to  raise 
these  fellows  up.  They  are,  completely  down,  and  if  we 
don't  get  them  up,  why  they  will  pull  us  down  too." 

"  I  never  saw  such  fellows,"  said  a  naval  prisoner. 
"  They  could  have  got  clothing  from  the  Confederates  just 
as  easily  as  we  did.  Here  we  come  in,  thin  and  pale 
and  weak,  and  find  them  healthy  and  hearty,  and  yet  all 
down  in  their  boots.  They  don't  seem  to  have  done 
anything  to  keep  themselves  alive  but  cook,  and  not 
much  of  that." 

"  That's  the  remedy,"  said  a  third.  "  You've  hit  it 
by  accident.  '  COOK  '  is  the  word.  Let  us  give  a  dinner- 
party and  astonish  them." 

"  A  dinner-party  !  We  should  astonish  them,  so  that 
we'd  never  hear  the  last  of  it." 

"  "Well,  why  not  ?  Didn't  some  of  us  f  celebrate '  the 
Fourth  at  Brashear  ?  and  didn't  we  have  a  Thanksgiving 
dinner  at  Camp  Groce  ?  I  have  great  faith  in  dinners.- 
"Why  can't  we  have  a  New  Year's  dinner  here  2" 

"  For  the  best  of  all  reasons,  because  there's  nothing 
to  eat.  There  we  had  milk  and  eggs  and  potatoes  and 
onions  and  a  turkey,  and " 

"  The  turkey  was  a  windfall,  and  didn't  come  till  we 


152  PRISON  CAMPS. 

had  determined  to  observe  the  day,  and  Dillingham  had 
issued  his  proclamation." 

"  And  pumpkin  and  pecan  nuts,  and  beef." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  we  have  beef." 

"  Yes,  we  have,  look  at  the  stuff,  look  at  it,"  and  our 
friend  pointed  to  a  dark,  dry-looking,  fatless  lump,  that 
hung  from  a  rafter.  "  We  have  got  foef,  and  we  have 
got  flour,  and  sugar,  and  bacon,  and  those  are  all." 

"  Something  may  turn  up  if  we  resolve  on  it." 

"  '  Something  may  turn  up  !'  Yes,  it  may,  and  when 
it  turns  up,  we'll  give  a  party." 

All  agreed  to  this  common  sense  conclusion,  except 
two  obstinate  members  of  the  mess,  and  they  were 
Lieutenant  Dane,  of  the  signal  corps,  and  myself. 

On  the  morrow  (the  thirtieth  of  December)  we  went 
to  the  gate,  presented  our  compliments  to  the  ser- 
geant of  the  guard,  and  informed  him  that  private 
business  with  Colonel  Allen,  commanding,  etc.,  required 
a  personal  interview.  The  sergeant  communicated  the 
fact  to  a  gentleman  in  butternut,  who  took  his  rifle  and 
strolled  leisurely  over  to  head-quarters  with  us.  The 
Colonel  smiled  pleasantly,  and  as  he  wrote  out  the  pass, 
said  in  a  well-bred  way,  that  he  never  doubted  the 
honor  of  his  prisoners,  though  he  sometimes  had  a  little 
fear  of  their  discretion,  and  that  when  he  was  applied  to 
by  gentlemen  who  would  be  discreet  in  their  inter- 
course with  the  country  people,  it  afforded  him  great 
pleasure  to  let  them  out  on  parole. 

The  lieutenant  and  I  returned  to  our  quarters,  and 


A    DINNER.  153 

hung  around  our  necks  a  couple  of  canteens  and  three 
or  four  haversacks  ;  we  took  a  basket  and  bag,  received 
with  gravity  sundry  bits  of  ironical  advice,  and  then 
presenting  to  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  our  pass,  stepped 
out  of  Camp  Ford  on  parole. 

The  road  carried  us  into  the  woods.  At  the  end  of 
half  a  mile  we  descended  a  hill,  crossed  a  little  brook, 
and  found  ourselves  close  upon  the  white  house  and 
negro-cabins  of  a  plantation.  At  the  door  we  encoun- 
tered a  sour-faced,  respectable  man,  with  whom  we  were 
soon  engaged  in  the  following  delightful  dialogue: 

"  Good  day,  sir." 

«  Good  day." 

"  Have  you  any  dried  fruit  to  sell  ?" 

«  No." 

"  No  apples  ?" 

"No." 

"  Nor  peaches  ?"    £  A  - 

"  No." 

"Any  eggs?" 

«  No." 

"  Any  chickens  ?" 

«  No." 

"  Couldn't  you  spare  some  potatoes  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Nothing  to  sell  for  cash,  at  the  highest  of  prices  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Good  day,  sir." 

«  Good  day." 

7* 


154:  PRISON  CAMPS. 

It  was  two  miles  of  dull  walking  to  the  next  house. 
A  plain-looking  old  woman  appeared  and  invited  us  in. 
As  ill-luck  would  have  it,  her  two  sons  had  been  cap- 
tured at  Arkansas  Post.  Still  more  unluckily,  the  two 
sons,  when  ill,  had  been  placed  in  different  hospitals, 
and  some  surgeon  with  petty  tyranny  had  refused  to  let 
the  one  brother  visit  the  other.  We  explained  that  there 
were  fools  in  both  armies,  who  treated  their  own  sol- 
diers in  the  same  way.  But  the  old  lady  said  she  would 
forgive  everything  but  that.  That  was  unnecessary 
cruelty.  She  then  heaped  coals  of  fire  upon  our  unof- 
fending heads  by  presenting  to  us  a  pumpkin,  and  by 
authorizing  her  chief  contraband,  who  bore  the  fruitful 
name  of  "  Plenty,"  to  sell  us  from  his  own  private  stores 
a  bushel  of  sweet  potatoes.  Leaving  these  treasures  till 
we  should  return,  we  went  on. 

At  the  third  house  we  had  the  same  conversation  over 
that  we  enjoyed  at  the  first,  and  as  we  turned  back  into 
the  road  it  began  to  rain.  u  Shall  we  go  back  or  go 
on?"  was  the  question.  "  How  far  did  they  say  it  was  to 
the  next  house,  two  miles  ?"  "  Yes,  two  miles.  If  we 
go  on  we  shall  be  wet,  perhaps  frozen.  But  no  matter ; 
that  is  better  than  going  back  and  acknowledging  a 
failure.  Come  on." 

Three  miles  more,  and  we  came  to  another  house, 
owned  by  another  old  lady.  Everything  about  it  was 
rigidly  in  order  and  stiffly  neat.  There  was  a  startling 
combination  of  colors  in  her  parlor ;  for  the  floors  were 
unpainted,  the  walls  were  white,  the  ceiling  blue,  the 


A    DINNER.  155 

wainscoting  red,  and  the  blinds  green.  Again  we  were 
told  that  there  was  nothing  to  sell.  But  luckily,  at  the 
first  item  on  our  list,  the  old  lady's  black  overseer  came 
in,  and  being  an  intelligent  contraband,  pricked  up  his 
ears  and  asked,  what  the  gentlemen  wanted  to  pay  for 
dried  peaches.  We  inquired  what  price  he  asked  for 
them.  He  reckoned  that  he  had  'bout  a  peck,  and  that 
a  peck  in  these  times  ought  to  bring  $5  ;  and  we  thought 
that  $5  was  precisely  the  sum  we  ought  to  pay  for  a 
peck  of  peaches.  This  purchase  being  happily  effected, 
we  ran  over  the  list,  but  to  every  item  our  sable  friend 
"  reckoned  not,"  till  we  mentioned  milk.  At  that  liquid 
name,  a  thought  evidently  struck  him.  He  hadn't  no 
milk,  but  he  had  vinegar — cider- vinegar — he  made  it  his 
own  self,  and  he  reckoned  that  in  these  times  it  ought  to 
bring  $1  a  quart.  We  forthwith  entrusted  him  with 
every  canteen,  to  be  filled  full  of  this  precious,  and 
indeed,  unrivalled  fluid.  We  then  re-applied  to  the  old 
lady  to  know  whether  she  really  couldn't  sell  us  some- 
thing. But  no,  not  even  our  free-handed  expenditures 
and  the  absence  of  all  Yankee  cuteness  in  us,  could 
bring  forth  the  old  lady's  stores. 

As  we  retraced  our  steps  we  noticed  a  small  log-house 
near  the  road,  and  a  middle-aged  woman  barbecuing 
beef  under  a  little  shed.  "  Let  us  try  here,"  one  of  us 
said  ;  and  we  went  up  to  the  fence  and  asked  for  eggs. 
The  woman  thought  she  had  a  few,  and  civilly  invited  us 
to  come  in  out  of  the  rain.  We  went  in,  and  found  that 
the  house  consisted  of  but  one  room,  and  all  looked 


156  PRISON   CAMPS. 

wretched  and  forlorn.  Nearly  a  dozen  eggs  were  pro* 
duced,  and  then  the  woman  bethought  herself  of  a  cer- 
tain fowl  that  might  as  well  be  sold,  and  set  her 
eldest  boys  to  catch  him.  A  great  cackling  presently 
announced  the  fate  of  the  fowl,  and  the  boys,  coming 
in  out  of  breath,  informed  us  that  they  had  run  him 
down.  He  was  a  vagabond-looking  young  cock,  who, 
any  one  would  swear,  ought  to  come  to  an  untimely  end, 
and  I  felt  a  moral  pleasure  as  I  tied  his  legs  and  popped 
him  into  the  basket. 

And  now  we  had  the  task  of  walking  six  miles  back 
in  the  rain.  As  we  mounted  a  rocky  ridge  we  noticed 
near  the  road  some  sumach.  The  sumach  had  been  so 
scarce  at  Camp  Groce  that  we  thought  this  a  prize. 
Setting  down  our  baskets,  therefore,  we  went  to  work 
picking  sumach,  and  as  we  filled  our  haversacks,  wo 
talked  of  the  dinner. 

"  The  last  haul  is  a  prize,  Colonel,"  said  Lieutenant 
Dane.  "  The  vinegar  is  a  treasure,  and  the  peaches  are 
worth  their  weight  in  Confederate  notes.  How  many 
shall  we  ask  to  dine  with  us  2" 

"  Yes,  it  settles  the  question  of  dinner.  After  such 
luck  as  this  we  must  go  on.  I  think  we  can  squeeze  in 
six  on  a  side,  and  one  at  each  end — fourteen  in  all." 

"  Fourteen !  Well,  now,  the  question  is  what  shall  we 
have  ?  So  far  our  luck  is  of  a  very  small  pattern — a  very 
small  pattern  indeed.  Ten  eggs  and  one  chicken  of 
themselves  won't  make  much  of  a  dinner  for  fourteen 
men." 


A    DINNER.  157 

"  The  fact  is,  we  must  make  this  dinner  chiefly  out  of 
our  own  brains.  Give  it  the  whole  weight  of  your  mind  ; 
think  intensely,  and  see  if  you  can't  hit  on  a  way  to  make 
a  dish  or  two  out  of  chips." 

"  Here's  this  sumach — what  would  you  make  of  it  ?" 

"  Look  at  it  philosophically.  Analyse  it :  TASTE — 
acid ;  COLOR — red.  Now  what  is  there  that  is  acid  and 
red  ?" 

"  There  are  currants  for  one  thing,  and  there's  some- 
thing else,  I'm  sure — oh,  cranberries." 

"  Then  we  must  make  currants  and  cranberries  out 
of  sumach.  But  for  my  part  I'm  greatly  distressed 
about  this  wretched  fowl — what  can  we  do  with  him  ?" 

"  We  might  boil  him,  though  he  is  young  and  will  da 
to  roast." 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of? — one  small  fowl  on  a 
table  before  fourteen  hungry  men  ;  ridiculous !'? 

"  Yes,  and  these  healthy  fellows  have  got  fearful  ap- 
petites. They  eat  like  alligators.  When  they  draw 
three  days'  beef  they  devour  it  in  one,  for  fear  (as  they 
say)  that  somebody  might  steal  it.  Can't  you  make  a 
salad  of  him  such  as  you  used  to  send  over  to  us  at 
Camp  Groce  ?  Do  you  know  when  we  first  came  there 
we  all  thought  the  dressing  was  real  ?" 

"  Let  us  see — we  have  vinegar,  to  be  sure,  and  some 
Ted  peppers.  But  there  is  not  time  now  to  manufacture 
the  mustard,  and  then  we  have  no  milk  or  butter  to 
make  the  oil  from.  No!  it's  very  sad,  but  we  can't 
have  chicken  salad !" 


158  PEISON  CAMPS. 

"  Well,  the  haversacks  are  full,  so  we  may  as  well  go 
on.  It  rains  harder  than  ever,  and  that  low  piece  of  road 
will  be  over  our  boots  in  mud  and  water.  I  wonder  if 
we  shall  find  the  potatoes  and  pumpkin  all  safe  ?" 

Our  friend  "  Plenty"  duly  delivered  to  us  those  vegeta- 
bles when  we  reached  his  cabin.  Now,  a  couple  of 
officers  trudging  along  in  the  mud  on  a  rainy  day,  laden 
with  a  bag  of  potatoes,  a  big  pumpkin,  a  couple  of  over- 
loaded baskets,  and  several  haversacks  and  canteens, 
cannot  present  a  very  elegant  or  dignified  appearance ; 
nevertheless,  a  tall  man  mounted  on  a  ragged-looking 
steed,  and  wearing  his  head  stuck  through  a  hole  in  the 
middle  of  his  blanket,  after  the  fashion  of  a  Mexican 
poncha,  accosted  us  as  "  gentlemen,"  and  in  most  court- 
eous terms  desired  to  know  whether  this  was  the  road 
to  Marshall.  He  gave  just  one  quick,  keen  glance  that 
travelled  all  over  us,  and  rested  for  a  single  instant  on 
our  shoulder  straps. 

"  I  perceive,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  without  the  slight- 
est diminution  of  courtesy,  "that  you  belong  to  the 
other  side." 

I  nodded  an  assent. 

"  And  that  you  are  officers  ?" 

I  nodded  again. 

"  I  presume  you  are  prisoners  then,  and  here  on  pa- 
role r 

Now,  wearing  a  United  States  uniform  at  that  time  in 
Texas  by  no  means  proved  that  a  man  was  in  the  United 
States  service ;  it  only  indicated  that  he  was  a  soldier. 


A   DINNER.  159 

So  many  prisoners  were  in  their  butternut,  and  so  many 
Confederates  in  our  uniform  that  a  Texan  eye  rarely 
looked  behind  the  coat  to  distinguish  the  kind  of  soldiei 
it  covered.  "When,  therefore,  our  tall  friend  said,  "  You 
are  on  the  other  side,"  and  added,  "  you  are  officers,"  it 
was  plain  to  us  that  he  had  made  the  close  acquaintance 
of  our  troops  in  some  other  way  than  through  the  news- 
papers. 

"  I  perceive  that  you  are  an  old  soldier,"  I  said  in  re- 
ply. "  And  I  do  not  think  you  are  a  Texan.  Allow  me 
to  ask  where  you  are  from  ?" 

"  I  belong  to  the  1st  Missouri  Cavalry,"  said  he, 
"  and  I  am  from  Missouri." 

"  From  Missouri !"  I  exclaimed.  "  Why,  I  was  in 
service  there  myself  during  the  first  year  of  the  war." 

The  tall  man  and  I  looked  steadily  at  each  other  in 
mutual  astonishment.  The  same  thoughts  were  passing 
through  our  minds,  and  he  expressed  them  first  and  best 
by  saying : 

"  You  know,  sir,  that  if  you  and  I  had  met  this  way 
in  Missouri,  that  first  year  of  the  war,  only  one  of  us 
would  have  walked  away,  and  maybe  neither." 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  "  the  war  was  very  bitter  there." 

"  It  was  that.  No  man  could  have  made  me  believe 
then  that  I  could  ever  meet  an  enemy  with  the  same 
friendly  feelings  I  have  for  you,  gentlemen." 

Here  our  friend  began  to  unbuckle  his  saddle-bags, 
and  after  much  trouble  produced  a  flat  bottle.  "  A 
friend,"  he  said,  "  gave  me  this,  and  I  mean  to  carry  it 
through  to  Arkansas,  if  I  can,  but  I  must  take  a  drink 


160  PRISON  CAMPS. 

with  a  gentleman  that  was  on  the  other  side  in  Missouri, 
the  first  year  of  the  war,  if  I  never  drink  again  as  long 
as  I  live."  •; 

We  touched  our  lips  to  the  detestable  poison,  and 
thanked  our  friend  for  his  courtesy.  The  "  border  ruf- 
fian "  then  expressed  his  great  satisfaction  at  finding  we 
were  treated  as  gentlemen  and  prisoners  of  war  should 
be,  and  said  he  doubted  if  he  didn't  respect  the  soldiers 
on  "  the  other  side  "  rather  more  than  he  did  a  good 
many  folks  on  his  own.  Finally  he  asked  our  names — 
gave  us  his  own,  which  was  Woodland — shook  hands 
warmly,  and  rode  off.  We  shouldered  our  loads  and 
plodded  on,  wondering  whether  the  barbarous  and  brutal 
trade  of  war  does  not  of  itself  inspire  men  at  last  with 
some  noble  and  chivalric  sentiments. 

These  meditations  lasted  us  till  we  reached  the  gate. 
We  were  somewhat  apprehensive  that  our  appearance 
would  produce  a  sensation  in  camp,  and  excite  anticipa- 
tions of  the  coming  festivities,  but  luckily  the  rain  and 
cold  had  driven  all  within  their  hovels.  We  walked 
rapidly  past  the  closed  doors  of  the  "  shebangs  "  till  we 
hastily  kicked  open  our  own,  and  threw  down  our  loads 
before  the  eyes  of  our  astonished  messmates.  Then  after 
a  savage  attack  on  cold  beef  and  hot  dodger,  and  after 
brewing  a  hot  decoction  of  sumach  to  keep  the  cold  out, 
we  hung  our  wet  clothes  before  the  fire,  and  rolled  our- 
selves in  our  warm  blankets  for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 
Ere  we  fell  asleep  some  one  came  in  and  said  that  it  was 
freezing,  and  that  the  ground  was  white  with  snow. 

The  ground  was  white  with  snow,  and  so  were  our 


A    DINNER. 


blankets  the  next  morning.  The  north  wind  blew  a 
gale  —  a  goodly  sized  snow-drift  stretched  across  the  floor 
of  the  "  shebang  "  —  the  water  pail  was  frozen  nearly 
solid,  and  a  cup  of  sumach  tea  that  stood  upon  the  table 
directly  in  front  of  the  fire  was  coated  with  ice.  Day- 
light stole  in  through  many  chinks  and  crevices  to  find 
us  still  shivering  in  our  bunks.  One  gentleman  sugges- 
ted that  another  gentleman  rise  and  cook  the  breakfast  ; 
but  the  other  gentleman  thought  the  day  would  be  long 
enough  if  we  had  breakfast  any  time  before  sunset.  A 
humorous  man  from  another  "  shebang  "  poked  his  head 
in  the  door,  and  inquired  whether  we  would  like  to  be 
dug  out  in  the  course  of  the  day.  "We  took  no  notice  of 
his  humor,  and  shivered  in  silence.  At  length  the  most 
uncomfortable  one  rolled  out,  threw  a  pile  of  logs  upon 
the  fire,  and  swept  away  the  snow.  As  a  matter  of  course 
the  others  followed.  Breakfast  was  first  disposed  of,  and 
then  Lieutenant  Dane  began  his  great  work.  All  of 
that  day  we  were  engaged,  like  Count  Rumford,  on  a 
series  of  scientific  experiments  closely  allied  to  the  art 
of  cookery.  "When  night  came  we  had  fought  our  way 
over  all  obstacles,  and  were  able  to  announce  that  the 
dinner  should  come  off  and  should  be  a  success. 

The  twro  junior  members  of  the  mess  had  at  the  outset 
agreed  (in  bad  faith)  that  if  we  would  cook  the  dinner, 
they  would  wait  upon  the  table.  We  now  held  them  to 
this  agreement,  and,  as  a  righteous  punishment  for  their 
contempt,  determined  to  cut  the  dinner  up  into  as  many 
courses  as  we  decently  could,  and  make  them  wash  the 


162  PRISON   CAMPS. 

plates  at  the  end  of  every  course.  The  rest  of  the  mess 
who  had  been  abashed  by  our  foraging  and  overawed  by 
our  experiments,  became  gradually  interested,  and  joined 
in  the  work  by  inviting  the  guests,  manufacturing  a 
table,  and  chopping  an  immense  pile  of  wood  for  the 
evening. 

•  "  Happy  New  Year's"  came  to  us  bright  and  clear,  and 
the  prisoners  followed  the  old  Dutch  custom  by  wander- 
ing around  and  wishing  each  other  happier  returns  of  the 
day.  At  our  "  shebang  "  we  were  compelled  to  inform 
visitors  that  we  received  on  the  other  side  of  the  way. 
We  were,  in  fact,  busy  beyond  powers  of  description, 
scolding,  as  I  have  observed  good  cooks  always  scold, 
and  ordering  in  the  style  that  really  talented  artists 
always  order.  "We  had  three  fires  in  full  blast — 
one  in  our  fire-place,  one  in  our  stove,  and  one  under  an 
independent  pot.  I  observed,  I  regret  to  say,  that  one 
or  two  of  the  invited  strolled  up  with  a  suspicious  air,  as 
if  they  really  feared  the  invitation  might  be  what  the 
vulgar  term  "  a  sell,"  and  the  dinner  so  much  moon- 
shine. It  was  plain  that  they  were  not  used  to  being 
invited  out.  As  the  appointed  hour  approached,  the  re- 
marks of  passers-by  gradually  called  our  attention  to  the 
fact  that  this  was  the  coldest  day  ever  known  in  Texas. 
(4°  Fahr.)  Some  extra  work  was  therefore  necessary.  We 
placed  the  table  across  the"  "  shebang  "  directly  in  front 
of  the  fire-place,  and  close  behind  the  table,  hung  blankets 
from  the  roof  to  the  floor,  thus  curtaining  out  the  cold 
after  our  Camp  Groce  plan.  There  were  actually  found 


A   DINNER.  163 

crockery  plates  in  camp  just  sufficient  to  go  round,  and 
also  two  naval  table-cloths,  which  spliced,  exactly  cover- 
ed the  table.  We  devoted  our  last  three  candles  to 
illume  the  festal  board ;  and  we  built  a  fire  over  a  back- 
log as  large  as  a  barrel. 

As  the  hour  of  six  o'clock  approached  our  guests  were 
adroitly  intercepted  at  the  door,  and  carried  into  a4 
neighboring  cabin,  where  they  were  entertained  till 
wanted.  When  every  thing  was  ready,  the  last  finish- 
ing touches  given,  and  the  two  waiters  fully  instructed 
with  respect  to  some  strategic  movements  to  be  exe- 
cuted behind  a  curtain,  the  door  was  opened,  and  our 
guests  triumphantly  marshalled  in.  As  these  mis- 
guided men,  who  for  half  a  year  had  been  devouring 
rations  off  of  tin  plates,  and  had  not  so  much  as  heard 
the  word  table-cloth  spoken — as  they  descended  into  the 
"shebang,"  they  seemed  to  be  fairly  dazed  with  the 
splendors  of  the  apartment.  They  sank  into  their  desig- 
nated seats,  too  much  appalled  to  speak,  and  only  talked 
in  subdued  tones  after  three  or  four  courses.  The  first 
course  was  on  the  table.  It  consisted  of  soup  and 
wheaten  bread — flour  bread,  as  it  was  vulgarly  called  in 
camp.  I  observed — at  least  I  had  a  sort  of  suspicion — - 
that  one  or  two  of  the  guests  had  an  habitual  idea  that 
soup  was  all  the  dinner ;  for  they  looked  nervously  over 
their  shoulders  when  an  adroit  waiter  (with  an  eye  to 
the  morrow,)  whisked  the  soup  oif  the  table  immediately 
after  everybody  had  been  helped  once. 

The  soup  plates  were  removed  by  one  waiter :  he  dis- 


PRISON   CAMPS. 

appeared  with  them  behind  the  curtain,  and  re-appeared 
with  the  dinner-set  in  about  the  time  the  other  waiter  had 
placed  the  second  course  upon  the  table.  It  might  have 
been  remarked  that  our  soup  plates  were  rather  shallow, 
and  bur  dinner  plates,  by  contrast,  rather  deep ;  but  the 
eyes  of  our  guests  were  too  dazzled  to  perceive  such 
slight  peculiarities.  "We  knew  that  it  was  a  wise  maneu- 
vre  to  show  great  profusion  at  the  beginning  of  a  dinner. 
The  guests  then  have  their  anxiety  allayed,  and  carry 
with  them  an  overpowering  idea  of  plenty,  which  of 
itself  allays  the  appetite.  Accordingly  we  double  shot- 
ted this  gun.  At  the  head  of  the  table  appeared  a  dish 
not  generally  known  or  appreciated.  Sweet  potatoes 
and  beef  entered  largely  into  its  composition.  A  hungry 
naval  officer  had  introduced  it  into  the  mess,  and  he 
called  it  scouse.  Yet  it  served  a  certain  purpose  well, 
and  was  skilfully  slipped  in  at  this  point  to  attract  the 
attention  of  gentlemen  with  vigorous  appetites.  At  the 
other  end  appeared  a  broiled  spare-rib,  and  the  lines  of 
communication  between  these  right  and  left  wings  were 
kept  open  by  detachments  of  squash,  turnips,  boiled  po- 
tatoes, and  cranberry  sauce.  "With  secret  pleasure  we 
saw  our  friends  lay  in  heavily  of  the  scouse,  and  deceive 
themselves  into  the  foolish  belief  that  we  had  thrown 
two  courses  together,  and  that  this  was  the  dinner. 

But  the  next  course  came  on,  with  clean  plates,  in  the 
imposing  form  and  substance  of  a  CHICKEN  PIE.  A  mag- 
nificent chicken  pie  it  was,  filling  an  immense  pan,  and 
richly  crowned  with  brown  crust  heaving  up  above  the 


A   DIKNEB.  165 

brim.  It  had  no  accompaniments  save  baked  potatoes, 
and  constituted  of  Itself  an  entire  army  corps.  No  one 
associated  with  it  the  idea  of  anything  little,  or  nig- 
gardly, or  economical.  On  the  contrary,  all  applauded 
it  enthusiastically,  and  declared  that  it  alone  would  have 
made  a  dinner. 

From  the  gravity  of  this  heavy  dish  we  passed  to  the 
gayety  of  mince  and  pumpkin  pies.  These  were  the  only 
common-place  things  in  the  dinner.  They  were  followed 
by  a  course  of  tarts — small,  refined-looking  tarts,  ele- 
gantly covered  with  currant  jelly  and  beautiful  pear 
preserves.  This  course  was  surprisingly  showy  and 
genteel,  impressing  beholders  with  the  idea  that  there 
must  be  a  pastry-cook  shop  concealed  somewhere  in  the 
camp.  Our  grand  climax  was  one  of  those  efforts  of 
genius  sometimes  called  "jelly-cake,"  sometimes  "La- 
fayette cake,"  sometimes  "Washington  pie."  It  was 
some  eighteen  inches  in  diameter,  and  four  or  five  inches 
thick,  (the  exact  size  of  our  dodger  pot),  a  beautiful 
brown  on  the  outside,  and  a  rich  golden  yellow  within, 
and  when  cut  was  seen  to  be  divided  by  strata  of  tempt- 
ing jelly.  Finally,  we  closed  with  coffee  (not  corn,  but 
Java)  and  tea  (not  Thea  Chinensis,  but  Thea  Texana), 
and  tobacco  inhaled  through  pipes,  instead  of  through 
the  original  leaf.  We  broke  up,  after  the  usual  four 
hours'  sitting  of  a  respectable  party,  with  the  usual  cour- 
tesies and  ceremonies.  One  or  two  late  men  stayed,  as 
they  always  do,  to  tell  their  best  stories ;  and  one  or  two 
early  men  slipped  off,  as  they  always  do,  on  the  plea  of 


166  PRISON  CAMPS. 

domestic  engagements.  There  was  one  or  two  small 
mishaps,  such  as  a  slight  infusion  ef  red  pepper  in  the 
coffee  (occasioned  by  one  of  the  cooks  grinding  the  pep- 
per first),  and  the  house  getting  a-fire  (caused  by  the 
stoker  piling  the  wood  as  high  as  the  log  mantel),  but 
the  affair,  as  a  whole,  was  a  grand,  noble,  philanthropic 
success. 

For  the  benefit  of  those  persons  who  (allured  by  the 
brightness  of  this  report)  desire  to  become  prisoners,  I 
will  minutely  narrate  how  this  wonderful  result  was 
obtained. 

The  soup  was  real,  and  probably  the  strongest  thing 
of  the  kind  ever  made,  for  a  choice  assortment  of  beef- 
bones  were  boiled  for  thirty-six  hours.  The  turnips  and 
spare-rib  were  a  present  from  the  Confederate  Commis- 
sary, Lieutenant  Ross,  and  came  in  the  very  nick  of 
time.  That  solitary  fowl  we  had  discussed  for  a  mile  or 
two  of  our  walk  back,  and  had  finally  determined  to  put 
him  in  a  pie.  But  the  only  pie-dish  we  could  procure 
was  a  large  tin  milk-pan.  To  have  a  dish  half  full  of 
pie  would  never  do.  It  was  necessary  both  to  have  pie 
enough  and  to  fill  the  dish.  From  Confederate  beef  we 
selected  pieces  free  from  fat  and  grizzle,  and  then  took 
the  fowl  and  chopped  him  up  bones  and  all.  The  beef 
was  also  chopped,  and  the  two  mixed  thoroughly  to- 
gether. The  fragments  of  bone,  to  which  some  prejudiced 
housewives  would  have  objected,  were  of  great  value  to 
us  in  establishing  the  authenticity  of  the  pie  ;  for  a  man 
who,  with  every  mouthful  he  took,  pricked  his  tongue  on 


A   DINNER.  167 

a  splinter  of  chioken  bone,  could  not  doubt  (if  he  were  a 
reasoning  creature)  that  he  was  eating  chicken  pie. 

The  next,  and  perhaps  the  greatest  achievement  of  ou* 
art,  was  in  the  currant  and  cranberry  line.  We  made, 
after  many  experiments,  a  strong  decoction  of  sumach. 
Into  this  we  stirred  flour,  slightly  browned  to  reduce  its 
color  and  take  off  the  raw  taste.  "When  this  mixture  was 
properly  sweetened  and  cooled  it  made  a  dark,  pasty 
substance,  looking  and  tasting  precisely  like  pjoor  currant 
jelly.  The  cranberry  sauce  was  more  difficult,  and  in- 
volved repeated  experiments.  Finally  a  handful  of  dried 
peaches  was  chopped  up,  so  that  when  cooked  the  pieces 
would  appear  about  the  size  of  cranberries.  To  get  rid 
of  their  peach  flavor,  we  soaked  them  and  boiled  them 
and  drained  the  water  off,  and  then  cooked  them  slight- 
ly in  a  decoction  of  sumach,  and  added  sugar  in  the  usual 
way.  Although  every  one  must  have  known  that  there 
were  no  cranberries  in  Texas,  yet  no  one  dared  to  ques- 
tion the  reality  of  this  dish.  It  was  not  cranberry,  but 
it  was  so  like  cranberry  that  they  could  not  imagine 
what  else  it  could  be,  and  feared  to  betray  their  igno- 
rance. 

A  shrewd  observer  will  have  noticed  the  fact  that  our 
invaluable  peaches  nowhere  appeared  on  the  bill  of  fare. 
Indeed  they  were  very  carefully  kept  out  of  sight,  and 
did  duty  in  the  secret  service.  Those  mince  pies  I  They 
were  made  of  peaches — of  peaches  and  mince-meat,  well 
flavored,  and  moistened  with  cider-vinegar.  I  cannot 
assert  that  they  were  poor,  for  we  had  no  other  mince- 


168  PBISON  CAMPS. 

pies  wherewith  to  compare  them ;  I  cannot  deny  that 
they  were  good,  because  they  were  all  eaten  up.  The 
proof  was  in  their  favor. 

The  big  pumpkin  that  we  carried  under  one  arm  till 
benumbed,  and  on  one  shoulder  till  a  stiff  neck  for  life 
threatened  us,  was  a  very  useful  vegetable.  In  one 
course  it  appeared  as  squash;  in  another  as  pumpkin, 
and  in  a  third  as  pear.  The  chief  cook  recollected  hav 
ing  seen  or  heard  of  pumpkin  preserves,  and  our  early 
experiments  pointed  to  ultimate  success.  To  succeed, 
however,  the  simplest  common  sense  told  us  we  must 
have  a  name  for  our  invention.  To  call  it  pumpkin 
sweatmeats  would  ruin  it.  We  knew  that  guava  jelly 
and  preserved  ginger  must  become  bankrupt  under  such 
a  label.  Accordingly  we  cut  the  pumpkin  in  pieces, 
like  those  of  a  quartered  pear ;  we  stewed  it  till  it  was 
not  quite  done  (a  little  tough  where  the  core  ought 
to  be) ;  we  spiced  it  with  sassafras,  prickly-ash,  a  few 
cloves,  and  the  last  half  of  a  nutmeg,  and  we  called  it 
pear-preserve. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  I  alluded  to  a  gigantic 
cake,  beautifully  brown  without  and  richly  yellow 
within.  This  magnificent  work  of  art,  truth  compels  mo 
to  say,  was  a  failure.  Its  golden  richness  was  not  due  to 
eggs  but  to  corn-meal.  We  mixed  a  dodger  with  some 
flour,  to  give  consistence,  and  some  sugar,  to  give  sweet- 
ness. We  baked  it  at  the  right  time  and  in  the  right 
manner.  We  sliced  it  up,  and  daubed  the  slices  over 
with  artificial  currant  jelly.  We  went  a  step  farther, 


A   DINNER.  169 

» 

and  called  it  cake.  We  even  varied  the  name  of  the 
cake,  to  meet  the  prejudice  or  fancy  of  the  particular 
guest  about  to  be  helped.  But  vulgarly  speaking,  "  it 
was  not  a  go."  We  could  cheat  our  guests  through  the 
medium  of  their  eyes  and  ears  in  many  things,  but  we 
couldn't  cheat  them  on  dodger.  "When  they  tasted 
dodger,  they  recognized  dodger.  Dodger  for  breakfast, 
dodger  for  dinner,  and  dodger  for  supper,  in  the  course 
of  half  a  year,  makes  a  deep  impression  on  the  human 
mind.  A  little  sugar  and  jelly  were  wholly  inadequate 
to  smooth  it  away.  Here,  then,  in  the  very  flush  of 
victory,  we  were  in  danger  of  suffering  a  shameful 
defeat.  Earlier  in  the  dinner  we  could  have  brought  up 
fresh  forces,  but  now,  in  the  hope  of  making  the  affair 
overwhelming,  we  had  thrown  our  last  reserve  into 
action^  A  retreat  was  ruin,  and  an  instant  of  hesitation 
would  have  acknowledged  a  defeat.  In  less  than  an 
instant  we  turned  the  retreat  into  a  flank  movement. 
Captain  Dillingham,  with  naval  effrontery,  gave  the 
cake  a  new  name,  and  called  it  a  JOKE  ! 

Thus  ended  this  great  dinner.  Our  guests  retired 
from  it  wiser  and  better  men.  A  profound  sensation 
was  followed  by  a  healthy  excitement.  Manufactures 
sprang  up  and  trade  began.  Some  gentlemen  made 
caps  from  rags,  and  hats  from  straw.  Others  built  a 
gymnasium  for  amusement,  and  others  engaged  in  gar- 
dening for  recreation.  A  few  musicians  manufactured 
banjoes,  tanning  the  parchment  and  preparing  the 
strings  in  camp.  One  officer,  possessed  of  a  worn-out 

8 


170  PRISON  CAMPS. 

file,  a  large  screw,  and  a  couple  of  old  horse-shoes, 
ground  the  file  into  a  chisel,  and  turned  the  screw  and 
worn-out  horse-shoes  into  a  good  turning  lathe.  Ano- 
ther changed  this  lathe  from  half-action  to  full-action. 
A  third  made  for  it  a  crank  and  foot-treadle.  A  fourth 
built  an  entirely  new  lathe,  better  than  the  first.  And 
thus  affairs  went  on  until  we  numbered  more  than  forty 
articles  of  camp  manufacture  made,  chiefly,  like  our 
dinner,  out  of  nothing.* 

*  Among  these  fabrics  manufactured  and  sold  by  the  prisoners  in 
Texas,  were : 

Axe  helves,  Baskets,  Blacking,  Brooms,  Candles  (mould  and  dip), 
Chairs  (arm  and  rocking),  Chessmen,  Checkermen,  Crockery- 
ware,  Caps  (military),  Cigars,  Door  mats,  Hats  (straw) ;  Musical 
instruments,  viz.,  banjoes,  castanets  and  triangles ;  Pails,  Pepper- 
boxes, Pipes,  Potash,  Kings,  Shirt-studs,  Sleeve-buttons,  Soap, 
Shoes,  Tables,  Toy-boxes ;  Wooden-ware,  viz.,  knives,  forks,  spoons, 
plates,  dishes,  bowls,  salt-cellars,  wash-boards. 


ESCAPE.  171 


X. 

ESCAPE. 

THKOTTGH  illness,  changes,  toil  and  trouble,  the  subject 
of  escape  never  left  our  minds.  At  Cam£  Groce,  weak- 
ness and  ill-health  constantly  postponed  intended  at- 
tempts. Moreover,  the  open  prairie  country  around  the 
camp,  the  nearness  of  the  coast-guard,  and,  above  all, 
the  absence  of  any  point  or  outlet  to  which  to  run,  were 
disheartening  obstacles.  At  Camp  Ford,  it  was  some- 
what different ;  for  the  woods  came  down  nearly  to  the 
stockade,  and  the  country  was  one  vast  forest. 

The  troubles  that  beset  the  path  of  an  escaping  pri- 
soner in  Texas  were  entirely  different  from  those  which 
would  attend  him  in  the  Northern  States.  The  diffi- 
culty of  passing  the  stockade  and  guard  was  trivial ; 
the  difficulties  of  crossing  the  surrounding  country  were 
not  insurmountable ;  but  after  hundreds  of  miles  were 
traversed,  and  weary  days  and  nights  had  exhausted  the 
body  and  dulled  the  mind,  then  the  chief  obstacles  be- 
gan. Two  hundred  miles  to  the  south  was  the  Texaii 
coast-guard.  One  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  the  east 
were  the  carefully  watched  lines  of  the  Red  River  and 
Atchafalaya.  To  the  north  were  the' rebel  Cherokees 
and  the  open  Indian  country.  Five  hundred  miles  west 


172  PRISON  CAMPS. 

w 

of  us  stretched  desolate  prairies,  and  beyond  them  were 
the  scouts  that  watched  and  guarded  the  Kio  Grande. 
In  short,  when  we  studied  the  map,  we  saw  no  city  of 
refuge  to  which  we  might  flee  ;  when  the  stockade  was 
scaled  and  the  pursuit  evaded,  there  was  still  no  outlet  of 
escape.  Further  than  this,  the  chances  of  re-capture  were 
many.  To  look  over  the  wide  extent  of  country  with  its 
sparse  population,  its  scattered  plantations,  its  remote 
towns,  and  talk  of  pursuing  prisoners  would  seem  as  idle 
as  searching  for  needles  in  a  haystack.  But  every  road 
was  watched,  every  river  was  guarded.  Every  man 
or  woman  or  boy  who  was  not  a  secret  Unionist  was 
in  effect  a  Confederate  patrol ;  the  entire  State  was  one 
great  detective  police,  constantly  pursuing  prisoners, 
refugees  and  slaves. 

Yet,  after  calmly  contemplating  these  difficulties,  the 
greater  part  of  the  prisoners  at  Camp  Ford  determined 
to  escape.  Perhaps  the  determination  was  quickened 
and  extended  by  annoyances  which  began  soon  after  our 
arrival,  and  which  steadily  increased.  There  are  said  to 
be  "  bad  streaks"  in  all  countries,  and  Tyler  is  situated  in 
a  very  bad  streak  of  Texas.  The  inhabitants  were  poor, 
ignorant  and  narrow-minded,  and  viewed}  with  angry 
A  ill-will,  the  liberality  of  Colonel  Allen.  They  poured  in 
complaints  at  head-quarters,  and  the  result  was,  that 
one  fine  morning,  the  poor  Colonel  received  a  reprimand 
for  his  liberality,  and  strict  orders  not  to  let  us  out  of  the 
stockade. 

The  kindness  of  Colonel  Allen  and  his  amiable  wife 


ESCAPE.  173 

was  not  lessened  by  its  unpopularity.  Kegularly,  every 
afternoon,  Mrs.  Allen  came  within  the  stockade,  accom- 
panied by  a  little  black  girl  bearing  a  basket.  Some- 
times she  brought  in  visitors,  partly  to  amuse  us  and 
partly  to  soften  them.  She  was  tireless  in  every  work 
that  could  add  to  our  comfort.  She  cheered  the  de- 
spondent and  comforted  the  weak,  and  for  the  sick, 
showed  that  beautiful  solicitude  that  no  one  save  a  Chris- 
tian \voman  can  evince. 

There  was  a  little  paper  then  in  camp,  printed  with 
the  pen  by  Captain  May,  of  the  23d  Connecticut,  which 
wras  read  successively  in  the  "  shebangs,"  and  shortened 
the  hours  and  occupied  the  mind.  It  had  much  local  wit 
and  humor,  but  so  blended  with  the  inner  life  of  Camp 
Ford,  that  the  outside  world  can  never  understand  its 
hits  and  jests.  Yet  frequently  the  "  Old  Flag"  rose  above 
satire  and  humor,  and  it  enabled  Lieutenant-Colonel  Du- 
ganne  to  pay  to  Mrs.  Allen  the  following  graceful 
tribute : 

"  ALL  kindly  acts  are  for  the  dear  Lord's  sake, 
And  His  sweet  love  and  recompense  they  claim : 

'I  was  in  prison' — thus  our  Saviour  spake, 
*  And  unto  me  ye  came !' 

"  So,  lady !  while  thy  heart  with  mother's  love 

And  sister's  pity  cheers  the  captive's  lot, 
Truth  keeps  her  record  in  the  courts  above, 

And  thou  art  not  forgot. 

"Though  nations  war,  and  rulers  match  their  might, 

Our  human  bosoms  must  be  kindred  yet, 
And  eyes  that  blazed  with  battle's  lurid  light, 

Soft  pity's  tears  may  wet. 


174:  PRISON  CAMPS. 

"  Were  all  like  thee,  kind  lady,  void  of  hates, 
And  swayed  by  gentle  wish  and  peaceful  thought, 

No  gulf  would  yawn  between  contending  States, 
No  ruin  would  be  wrought. 

"  May  all  thy  matron's  heart,  with  joy  run'o'er 
For  children  spared  to  bless  thy  lengthened  years — 

Peace  iu  thy  home,  and  plenty  at  thy  door, 
And  smiles,  to  dry  all  tears. 

"  And  may  each  cheering  hope  and  soothing  word 

That  thou  to  us  sad  prisoners  hast  given, 
Recalled  by  Him,  who  all  our  prayers  hath  heard, 

Bring  the  reward  in  Heaven." 

/v 

When  the  minds  of  many  men  are  given  wholly  to 
one  subject,  it  is  incredible  how  many  expedients  they 
can  devise.  Yet  no  expedient  could  be  devised  to  com- 
ply with  one  condition  which  the  calmer  judgments  im- 
posed, and  which  was  thus  allegorically  expressed  by 
one  of  our  friends  in  the  guard,  "  When  General  Green 
spreads  his  tents,  there  will  be  plenty  of  good  recruits 
join  him  ;"  which  meant,  "You  had  better  wait  till  the 
leaves  are  out." 

At  length,  in  the  latter  part  of  March,  ere  the  buds 
were  fully  blown,  the  impatience  of  fifteen  officers  broke 
through  their  discretion.  They  divided  into  three  par- 
ties, and  made  their  preparations  carefully.  Old  haver- 
Backs  were  mended,  and  new  ones  made.  Suspicious 
articles  of  dress  were  exchanged.  Some  beef  was  saved 
and  dried ;  hard-tack  was  baked,  and  panola  made. 
This  last  article  was  recommended  by  the  Texans.  It 
consists  of  corn-meal  browned  to  about  the  color  of 


ESCAPE.  175 

ground  coffee,  with  a  liberal  allowance  of  sugar  stirred 
in.  Its  advantages  are  that  it  requires  no  cooking,  and 
contains  a  large  amount  of  nutriment  in  proportion  to 
its  bulk  and  weight. 

The  parties  were  soon  ready  to  start.  But  the  Texan 
atmosphere  is  dry  and  clear,  with  cloudless  nights.  One 
evening,  while  the  colors  of  sunset  were  still  glowing 
upon  the  western  sky,  an  officer  came  to  me,  and  point- 
ing to  a  black  cloud  that  was  rising  from  the  horizon, 
said,  "  If  that  cloud  comes  up  overhead,  we  will  make 
the  attempt."  It  was  a  bad  hour,  in  every  way;  for 
darkness  had  not  yet  succeeded  day,  and  the  moon  was 
alrea'dy  throwing  her  pale  light  upon  the  eastern  clouds. 
Yet  this  cloud  might  not  come  again  for  weeks,  and  its 
dark  shadow  was  too  precious  to  be  lost. 

A  gay  party  assembled  in  the  "  shebang"  nearest  to 
the  southern  side  of  the  stockade.  They  had  a  iiddle 
and  banjoes  and  castanets,  and  all  the  vocal  minstrelsy 
of  the  camp.  They  roared  Irish  songs,  and  danced 
negro  break-downs,  and  the  little  cabin  shook  writh  the 
tumult  of  their  glee.  Down  at  the  farther  corner  of  the 
enclosure,  where  all  was  gloom  and  quiet,  two  men 
crawled  on  the  ground  to  the  stockade.  They  were 
about  thirty  feet  apart,  and  a  rope  lay  between  them. 
The  sentry  on  the  outside  heard  the  merriment  in  the 
"  shebang,"  and  as  all  was  quiet  on  his  beat,  he  walked 
up  to  look  at  the  Yankee's  fun.  He  passed  the  two  men. 
The  second-  twitched  the  rope ;  the  first  quickly  rose, 
and  dug  with  all  his  might.  A  few  minutes,  and  the  hole 


176  PRISON   CAMPS. 

was  deep  enough  to  allow  a  post  of  the  stockade  to  bo 
canted  over,  so  as  to  leave  a  narrow  aperture  between  it 
and  its  neighbor.  The  man  laid  down  his  spade,  sig- 
nalled to  some  one  behind  him,  and  began  to  squeeze 
himself  through  the  opening.  Fourteen  others  rose  from 
the  ground,  and  one  by  one,  trembling  with  impatient 
eagerness,  pressed  through  and  followed  him.  They, 
crossed  the  sentries'  path,  ran  up  a  little  hill  that  fronted 
the  stockade,  and  disappeared  beneath  the  trees  beyond. 
The  second  of  the  two  men  still  lay  upon  the  ground. 
The  last  of  the  fifteen  was  to  have  twitched  the  rope, 
and  this  man  was  to  have  replaced  the  post.  But  who, 
at  such  a  time,  ever  looked  behind  to  see  if  he  were  last  ? 
The  signal  was  not  given  !  "Within  the  "  shebang  "  still 
rose  the  racket,  and  still  the  sentry  stood  grinning  at  the 
Yankee  antics.  But  from  the  other  direction  came  the 
tramp  of  the  next  guard-relief  ! 

Among  those  who  waited  and  listened,  and  saw  noth- 
ing, there  was  intense  suppressed  excitement.  In  vain 
one  or  two  moved  round,  begging  the  little  groups  to 
break  up — to  stifle  their  earnest  whispers — to  resume  the 
ordinary  hubbub  of  the  evening — to  laugh — to  sing — to 
do  anything.  In  vain  a  young  lieutenant,  who  was  both 
a  wit  and  vocalist,  burst  forth  with — 

"  Roll  on,  silver  moon ! 
Light  the  traveller  his  way." 

The  groups  broke  up,  but  re-formed  ;  the  whispers  stop- 
ped for  a  moment,  and  then  went  on. 


ESCAPE.  177 

The  corporal  of  the  guard  halted  his  relief,  and  could 
be  seen  observing  the  opening  of  the  leaning  post.  There 
was  a  little  pause,  and  then  a  light  came  down  to  the 
suspicious  opening.  There  was  a  little  longer  pause — a 
slight  stir  through  the  guards'  quarters,  and  then  a 
squadron  of  cavalry  rode  out,  and  an  officer,  with  foui 
or  five  men,  went  at  a  gallop  down  the  Tyler  road. 

The  black  cloud  seemed  to  be  the  fugitives'  friend  ; 
for  at  this  moment  of  discovery  it  poured  down  a  heavy 
shower.  We  retired  to  our  cabins,  and  felt  some  little 
relief  in  the  hope  that  the  friendly  cloud  had  washed 
away  the  trail.  Some  time  passed — perhaps  two  hours, 
and  our  hope  had  well-nigh  turned  into  belief;  when, 
from  the  Tyler  road,  a  low,  wailing,  ominous  cry  smote 
upon  our  ears.  "  Did  you  hear  that  ?"  each  asked  of 
the  other,  in  startled  whispers.  "  Yes ;  the  Hood- 
hounds  /" 

The  hounds  came  down  to  the  stockade.  *  They  snuffed 
and  moaned  for  a  moment  around  the  opening,  and  then 
ran  straight  up  the  bank  and  under  the  trees.  There 
lay  the  trail.  We  listened  until  their  faint  baying  could 
be  heard  no  longer.  Of  all  the'dismal  sounds  that  mor- 
tal senses  were  ever  laden  with,  none  more  melancholy 
than  the  baying  of  these  hounds  was  ever  heard.  We 
passed  the  uneasy  night  in  speculating  upon  the  chances 
of  the  three  parties,  and  in  trying  to  imagine  the  feel- 
ings of  our  friends  when  they  should  first  hear  the  fore- 
boding wail  behind  them,  and  surmise  that  the  blood- 
hounds were  upon  their  track. 

8* 


178  PRISON  CAMP8. 

Yet  the  next  morning  the  prospect  appeared  brighter. 
Three  showers  of  rain  had  fallen  during  the  night; 
twelve  hours  had  passed  since  the  escape,  and  we  felt 
confident  that  the  hounds  must  have  lost  the  scent. 
The  day  passed  in  growing  cheerfulness,  and  at  taps  no 
tidings  had  come.  We  went  to  our  quarters,  sure  that 
all  had  been  successful.  About  nine  o'clock  that  even- 
ing, the  door  of  my  "  shebang  "  opened,  and  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Leake,  of  the  20th  Iowa,  entering,  presented, 
with  mock  formality,  Lieutenant  Lyon,  of  the  176th 
!N"ew-York.  He  and  his  party  had  been  recaptured. 

There  were  still  eleven  officers  out,  who,  we  knew, 
were  divided  into  two  parties.  Twenty-four  hours  must 
have,  passed  before  the  hounds  could  have  taken  their 
trail,  and  every  hour  dissipated  the  scent.  The  second 
day  passed  without  news.  So  did  the  third  evening, 
and  the  morning  of  the  third  day.  Then,  about  noon, 
word  was  passed  in  from  the  guard-house  that  nine  more 
were  caught. 

In  an  hour  or  two,  they  came,  close  packed  on  the 
bottom  of  a  wagon.  "We  waited  with  some  anxiety  the 
reception  they  would  meet  with  at  head-quarters.  Colo- 
nel Allen  came  out,  shook  hands  with  one  or  two, 
laughed,  and  manifestly  treated  the  affair  as  a  joke. 
The  wagon  started  for  the  gate.  Its  way  lay  through 
the  quarters  of  the  guard,  who  had,  of  course,  turned 
out  to  look  at  the  runaway  Yanks.  We  waited  in  the 
painful  expectation  of  hearing  a  Texan  yell  over  the 
misfortune  of  our  friends.  To  their  honor  be  it  known, 


ESCAPE.  179 

the  Texans  showed  no  ill-mannered  exultation.  But  the 
instant  it  was  settled  that  no  shout  of  triumph  was  to  be 
raised  by  the  victorious  rebs,  there  was 'a  revulsion  of 
feeling  in  the  prison  community.  As  the  gate  opened,  a 
slight,  restless  stir  ran  through  the  crowd.  As  the 
wagon  drove  in,  a  loud  shout  arose  (couched  in  expres- 
sive Texan  slang)  of,  "  Here's  your  mule  !  Here's  your 
mule  1"  The  runaways  smiled  feebly,  as  men  do  who 
are  the  victims  of  a  joke.  The  crowd  laughed  boister- 
ously, and  gave  excellent  imitations  of  the  baying 
of  hounds.  About  the  same  time,  a  little  three-year-old, 
the  child  of  a  commissary-sergeant,  came  out  on  the 
bank  opposite  to  us,  and  in  shrill  tones  piped  out, 
"  Yankee  ran  away  !  Yankee  ran  away  !"  And  all  the 
afternoon,  the  little  wretch  would  come,  at  short  inter- 
vals, and  re-sing  his  refrain,  "  Yankee  ran  away ! 
Yankee  ran  away !  Yankee  ran  away  1" 

When  we  came  to  collate  the  stories  of  the  three 
parties,  and  of  their  captors,  we  gathered  the  following 
account :  each  party  had  kept  secret  its  intended  move- 
ments ;  yet  all  had  selected  substantially  the  same  route. 
Unluckily  for  them,  their  trails  crossed,  and,  still  more 
unluckily,  there  rode  with  the  Confederates  an  old  west- 
ern trapper,  whom  the  men  called  Chillicothe.  When 
the  first  party  was  captured,  the  pursuers  merely  returned 
to  the  crossing  of  the  second  trail,  and  followed  it  up 
In  like  manner,  when  they  had  captured  the  second 
party,  they  only  came  back  to  the  third  trail.  At  these 
crossings,  the  prisoners  could  see  nothing ;  but  to  the 


180  PRISON   CAMPS. 

eyes  of  Cliillicotlie  and  the  instinct  of  the  dogs,  the  two 
trails  were  as  plain  as  the  crossings  of  two  streets.  The 
trapper  told  the  prisoners  where  they  had  been,  and 
nearly  everything  they  had  done.  He*  showed  them 
where  (unknowingly)  they  entered  a  swamp  by  the 
same  opening,  and  crossed  a  stream  on  the  same  tree. 
He  pointed  out  to  them  the  spot  where  they  sat  down 
to  rest,  and  the  hill  up  wh'ich  one  climbed  to  recon- 
noitre. He  described  to  them  a  log  where  one  pulled  off 
his  boots,  and  another  lit  his  pipe.  A  secret  history  of 
their  movements  seemed  to  be  written  upon  the  ground. 
The  story  of  the  last  party  captured  was  this :  they 
marched  rapidly  all  of  the  first  night,  and  hid  themselves 
through  the  first  day.  At  dark,  they  resumed  their 
march,  and  continued  to  travel  rapidly  through  the  woods. 
On 'the  second  morning,  they  selected,  as  a  hidings-place, 
a  narrow  gully,  roofed  over  and  completely  hidden  by  a 
fallen  tree.  The  barking  of  dogs  and  crowing  of  cocks 
told  that  a  plantation  was  near.  In  the  afternoon,  two 
restless  members  of  the  party  insisted  on  going  there  to 
buy  eggs.  Hardly  had  they  gone,  when,  in  the  oppo- 
site direction,  was  heard  the  baying  of  hounds.  Yet 
there  were  no  fears  of  being  tracked,  for  forty-four  hours 
had  passed  since  the  party  left  camp.  The  baying  came 
nearer.  Still  it  was  thought  that  a  party  of  hunters  were 
accidentally  coming  that  way.  A  number  of  horsemen 
rode  down  to  the  little  brook  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and 
paused  there  to  water  their  steeds.  The  dogs,  at  the 
same  time,  started,  and  came  directly  up  the  hill.  A 


ESCAPE.  181 

beautiful  dark  hound  led  the  pack,  and  when  he  reached 
the  tree,  he  mounted  it  with  his  fore-feet,  and  looked  intel- 
ligently down  on  the  prisoners.  They  remained  quiet, 
fearing  that  some  growl  or  bark  might  betray  them,  yet 
hoping  the  hounds  would  pass  on.  The  leader  turned, 
and  quietly  trotted  down  the  hill.  He  went,  not  to  his 
owner,  but  to  the  lieutenant  who  commanded  the  party  ; 
he  looked  a  moment  at  him,  and  then  turning  looked  to- 
ward the  fallen  tree.  The  lieutenant  instantly  shouted, 
"  Here  they  are  !"  All  of  his  men  drew  their  pistols, 
and  spurred  their  horses  up  the  hill.  The  tree  was  sur- 
rounded, and  the  fugitives  recaptured. 

What  became  of  the  two  remaining  officers  was  a 
question  with  us  for  many  weeks.  The  unerring  hounds 
had  started  on  their  trail,  but  the  lieutenant  who  com- 
manded, had  ordered  that  they  should  be  called  off.  He 
did  not  know  how  many  prisoners  had  escaped,  and 
moreover,  he  had  already  caught  two  parties  of  four  each. 
Therefore,  when  he  found  five  prisoners  in  the  gully,  he 
naturally  concluded  that  they  were  all.  Several  weeks 
after  this,  a  quotation  from  a  New  Orleans  paper  as- 
sured us  of  their  safe  arrival  within  ou-r  lines. 

The  first  fact  impressed  upon  us  by  these  adventures 
was  the  wonderful  power   and  sagacity  of  the  blood 
hounds.     During  the  next  three  months,  a  long  list  of 
experiences  re-taught  this  lesson.      The   Confederates 
possessed  in  them  "  pursuing  angels,"  whose  powers  ex 
ceeded  those  of  men.     If  you  buried  yourself  in  the 
earth,  they  dug  you  out.    If  you  climbed  a  tree,  they 


182  PEISON  CAMPS. 

came  and  stood  at  the  foot.  If  you  plunged  into  track- 
less wilds,  they  followed  you.  If  you  threw  yourself 
into  a  stream,  and  threaded  its  windings  for  miles,  they 
passed  tirelessly  up  and  down  its  bank,  until  they  came 
to  the  spot  where  you  had  left  it.  As  every  means  that 
ingenuity  could  devise  failed,  and  as  prisoner  after  pri- 
soner who  tried  them  was  recaptured,  there  gradually 
grew  up,  in  our  minds,  a  feeling  that  to  be  hunted  by 
these  brutes  was  like  being  pursued  by  dreadful  phan- 
toms, such  as  we  read  of  in  old  stories,  which  no  mortal 
power  could  outstrip  or  elude,  if  their  insatiate  chase 
once  began. 

At  the  time  of  the  escape  of  the  fifteen,  a  number  of 
officers  were  secretly  engaged  in  "  tunnelling  out." 
•  There  were  two  plans  connected  with  this  tunnel.  The 
first  was  that  all  who  wished  to  escape  should  pass  out 
on  the  same  night  and  then  scatter  in  small  parties.  We 
knew  that  some  of  these  parties  would  be  caught — we 
also  thought  that  some  would  escape,  and  every  man 
.hoped  that  he  would  be  in  a  lucky  party.  The  second 
plan  rested  in  the  breasts  of  but  three  or  four  officers, 
and  they  hardly  ventured  to  speak  of  it  to  each  other. 
It  was  that  on  some  dark  night  we  would  pass  all  able- 
bodied  men  out,  form  them  in  the  neighboring  woods, 
march  boldly  down  the  road,  and  surprise  the  guard  in 
their  quarters  ;  then  after  burning  the  Confederate  arse- 
nal and  workshops  at  Tyler,  we  would  seize  upon  horses 
sufficient  to  mount  the  party,  and  push  without  ceasing 
for  the  Sabine  and  our  lines  beyond. 


- .,*>*  ESCAPE.  183 

About  one  hundred  feet  beyond  the  north  side  of  our 
enclosed  camp  stood  two  large  trees.  The  spot  was 
known  as  the  "  Quartermaster's  Grave,"  for  there  slept 
Lieutenant  John  F.  Kimball,  Quartermaster  of  the 
176th  New  York.  The  grave,  carefully  enclosed  by  a 
wicker  fence,  was  between  the  two  trees.  The  sentries' 
walk  was  close  to  the  stockade  and  parallel  to  the  grave. 
Within  our  enclosure  the  "  shebangs,"  though  not  built 
upon  any  plan,  had  nevertheless  sprung  up  with  some- 
what of  the  regularity  of  streets.  One,  however,  called 
from  its  Indiana  owners,  the  Hawk-eye,  stood  detached, 
and  only  about  sixteen  feet  from  the  stockade.  This 
cabin  was  taken  for  our  starting  point.  In  one  corner  a 
shaft  was  sunk  eight  feet  in  depth  and  length  by 
four  in  width.  From  the  bottom  of  this  shaft  the  tunnel 
started.  It  was  just  high  enough  for  a  man  to  sit  erect 
and  work,  and  just  wide  enough  for  two  men  to  meet 
and  pass  by  each  other.  Two  men  worked  in  it  at  the 
same  time,  the  one  excavating  and  the  other  removing 
the  earth.  Their  tools  consisted  of  an  old  sword-bayonet, 
a  broken  shovel  and  a  small  box. 

The  first  difficulty  met  was  in  establishing  the  grade 
and  direction  of  the  tunnel.  The  top  of  it  at  the  shaft 
was  less  than  five  feet  below  the  surface,  while  the  posts 
of  the  stockade  stood  four  and  a  half  feet  deep.  It  was 
necessary  to  go  well  below  them,  and  therefore  neces- 
sary to  start  with  a  descending  grade.  Beside  the 
Quartermaster's  grave  were  three  others.  They  project- 
ed over  a  line  drawn  from  the  shaft  to  the  largest  tree, 


184  PRISON  CAMPS. 

and  we  designed  that  th'e  tunnel  should  come  out  through 
the  roots  of  this  tree  like  a  fox-earth.  The  wicker  fence 
with  the  trunk  and  shadow  of  the  tree,  formed  so  perfect 
a  screen  from  the  sentries  that  a  hundred  men  could 
have  passed  out  on  a  stormy  night  with  only  remote 
chances  of  detection.  Yet  as  the  graves  projected  over 
the  line  I  have  mentioned,  it  was  necessary  for  us  to  de- 
flect from  our  true  course  until  we  should  pass  them,  and 
then  turn  and  work  toward  the  tree.  To  bore  under 
ground  in  the  dark,  and  hit  such  a  mark  as  the  tree  could 
not  be  done  by  chance  or  guess-work.  We  also  must 
know  the  exact  distance  of  the  point  where  we  should 
turn  from  our  deflecting  course ;  for  if  we  turned  too 
soon  we  should  run  into  the  graves,  and  if  we  turned  too 
late  we  should  shoot  beyond  the  tree. 

The  difficulty  of  grade  and  direction  was  speedily  dis- 
posed of.  A  pocket-compass  and  a  small  vial  were  soon 
procured,  and  Mr.  Johnson,  engineer  of  the  gun-boat 
"  Diana,"  with  admirable  skill  combined  them  into  a  good 
surveyor's  compass  and  level.  The  direction  of  the  tree 
was  taken,  the  amount  of  our  deflection  estimated,  and 
the  compass-level  handed  to  the  workmen  with  orders  to 
keep  on  a  certain  grade  and  course. 

To  ascertain  the  exact  distance  of  the  tree  was  a  harder 
task.  For  this  three  methods  were  suggested.  It  was 
first  proposed  that  an  officer  should  go  out  for  wood,  and 
as  he  passed  this  part  of  the  stockade,  some  one  should 
request  him  to  copy  the  inscription  on  a  head-board. 
He  would  then  come  up  to  the  stockade  for  a  pencil,  and 


ESCAPE.  185 

thence  walk  directly  to  the  tree,  counting  his  steps  as 
he  went.  The  objection  to  this  was  that  it  might  excite 
suspicion,  and  draw  attention  to  the  tree. 

The  second  method  was  to  form  an  interior  triangle, 
which  should  be  equal  to  an  imaginary  exterior  triangle. 
To  do  this  it  was  indispensable  that  we  should  have  "  a 
given  angle"  and  a  "  given  side"  of  each.  Our  pocket- 
compass  was  too  small  to  take  angles,  and  moreover  this 
had  to  be  done  literally  within  a  few  inches  of  the  sen- 
tries and  before  their  eyes.  It  was  advisable,  therefore, 
to  measure  and  establish  our  given  angle  without  instru- 
ments, and  in  the  most  artless  manner. 

Now  every  body  possessed  of  a  smattering  of  geome- 
try knows  that  in  a  right-angled  triangle  the  square  of 
the  hypothenuse  is  equal  to  the  sum  of  the  squares  of  the 
other  sides.  Yet  very  few  people  can  turn  that  know- 
ledge to  any  practical  account.  This  theorem,  however, 
enabled  us  readily  and  accurately  to  establish  a  right- 
angle,  and  to  use  it  as  our  "  given  angle."  It  was  done 
in  this  way  :  we  took  a  cord  and  measured  oft'  and  mark- 
ed with  pins,  ten  feet,  eight  feet,  and  six  feet.  By  squar- 
ing these  numbers  it  will  be  seen  that  102=82+62. 
Hence  by  bringing  our  line  into  the  shape  of  a  triangle 
(the  pins  designating  the  angles),  we  formed  of  it  a  right- 
angled  triangle. 

It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  a  Texan  sentry,  seeing 
us  measuring  with  a  cord  on  the  inside  of  the  stockade, 
would  ever  dream  that  we  were  measuring  distances  on 
the  outside.  Yet  it  was  desirable  that  our  measurements 


18(5 


PRISON   CAMPS. 


should  be  few  and  quickly  done.  After  thus  marking 
the  line,  and  also  measuring  upon  it  twenty  feet,  Captain 
Torrey,  of  the  20th  Iowa  and  myself,  carried  it  up  to  the 
Hawk-eye  cabin,  dropped  it  on  the  ground,  and  quickly 


TREE 


STOCKADE 


TREE 


drew  it  into  the  form  of  the  little  triangle — A  J  K. 
As  soon  as  thfe  side  A  J"  came  on  a  Ime  with  the  tree, 
one  of  us  glanced  along  the  other  side  A  K  and  noted 
the  point  B  where  its  projection  struck  the  stockade. 
He  then  quickly  measured  twenty  feet  in  this  direction, 
and  stuck  a  peg  in  the  ground  at  C.  He  measured 
twenty  feet  more  and  placed  another  peg  at  D.  Hero 
we  re-set  the  triangle,  which  gave  us  the  new  direction 
D  E.  One  of  us  then  walked  down  this  course  till  he 
found  himself  on  a  line  with  the  peg  C  and  the  tree. 


ESCAPE.  187 

Here  we  placed  another  peg,  F.  We  then  picked  up 
the  cord  and  came  away.  "When  the  guard  was  relieved, 
and  a  new  set  of  sentries  stood  around  the  stockade,  we 
went  back  and  measured  the  distance  from  F  to  D.  It 
was  equal  to  the  distance  from  the  cabin  to  the  tree. 

The  third  method  was  suggested  by  Captain  Torrey. 
It  was  to  take  the  altitude  of  a  triangle  by  trigonometry. 
A  table  of  logarithms  remaining  in  the  possession  of  a 
naval  officer,  enabled  us  to  do  this.  Captain  Torrey  laid 
off  the  base  of  his  trian^e  well  down  in  the  camp,  out 
of  sight  of  the  sentries.  To  measure  the  angle  at  A  he 


described  a  circle  on  the  back  of  a  large  chess-board,  and 
divided  it  as  accurately  as  he  could  into  degrees.   When 
the  altitude  B  T  was  thus  obtained^  all  that  remained  t 
necessary  to  be  done  was  to  measure  the  distance  from 
the  base  to  the  corner  of  the  "shebang"  (B  C),  and  sub- 


188  PRISON  CAMPS. 

tract  it  from  the  altitude  B  T.  The  results  obtained  by 
these  two  methods  were  substantially  the  same. 

A  great  deal  of  earth  comes  out  of  such  a  hole.  It 
was  estimated  that  we  brought  out  two  cart  loads  a  day. 
For  the  first  day  or  two  our  plan  was  simply  to  carry  it 
from  the  cabin  after  dark.  Now  this  might  escape  no- 
tice, but  if  it  once  attracted  observation,  and  that  ob- 
servation should  continue  from  night  to  night,  detection 
was  certain.  The  boldest  course  is  always  the  safest, 
and  therefore  it  was  determined  that  all  the  earth  should 
be  carried  out  in  broad  daylight.  Accordingly  a  num- 
ber of  officers  were  detailed  for  this  work.  They  never 
went  for  a  bucket  of  water  without  filling  the  bucket 
with  earth ;  none  carried  out  a  bag  or  basket  empty. 
Little  by  little,  the  contents  of  the  tunnel  were  distributed 
around  the  camp.  Some  was  thrown  in  the  paths  and 
trampled  down — some  in  the  ravine,  and  covered  with 
ashes,  and  some  was  used  to  bank  up  "  shebangs."  It 
was  scattered  so  perfectly  that  many  of  our  own  number 
were  at  a  loss  to  know  what  had  become  of  it. 

A  sentinel  constantly  watched  the  gate.  When  any 
Confederate  visitor  entered,  a  signal  was  given,  the 
work  stopped  within  ,the  tunnel,  and  a  blanket  was 
spread  over  the  shaft.  Yet  all  these  precautions  did  not 
satisfy  our  anxiety.  The  ingenious  engineer  of  the 
"  Diana"  was  again  called  in.  He  skilfully  arched  over 
the  shaft,  leaving  a  hole  at  one  end,  over  which  he  placed 
the  meal-box  of  the  Hawk-eye.  The  bottom  of  this  box 
was  movable.  When  work  was  suspended  in  the  tunnel 


ESCAPE.  189 

the  bag  of  meal  and  cooking  utensils  were  thrown  into 
the  box,  ancbit  became  as  honest  a  looking  box  as  a  man 
could  have.  "When  work  was  to  begin  again  the  box 
was  emptied,  the  bottom  was  lifted  out,  and  there  ap- 
peared 9  dark  hole,  through  which  a  man  could  drop 
down  into  the  shaft  below. 

Yet  still  our  anxiety  grew  with  the  work.  "We  knew 
that  if  suspicion  ever  fell  on  any  "  shebang  "  it  would 
fall  on  this  one.  We,  therefore,  determined  to  push  a 
sap  to  an  inner  cabin,  and  pass  all  the  earth  through  to 
the  less  suspicious  building.  A  wet  morning  gave  us  a 
pretext  for  digging  a  trench.  The  trench  was  speedily 
roofed  and  covered  with  earth.  When  fully  completed, 
one  end  of  it  entered  the  shaft,  and  the  other  opened  in 
the  second  "  shebang."  The  operation  then  was  this : 
a  workman  in  the  tunnel  filled  a  small  box  with  earth ; 
a  second  one  in  the  shaft  drew  out  the  box,  and  lifted  it 
into  the  "  baby-jumper"  (as  the  sap  was  called) ;  a  third 
drew  it  through,  and  emptied  it  in  the  second  "  she- 
bang." 

Yet  all  this  precaution  was  deemed  insufficient.  The 
"baby-jumper"  was  enlarged  so  that  a  man  could  crawl 
through ;  the  box  was  removed,  and  the  shaft  was  cover- 
ed over  entirely.  On  the  very  day  that  this  was  com- 
pleted, the  gate  suddenly  opened,  and  Colonel  Allen 
came  in.  He  walked  rapidly  to  the  Hawk-eye  (whither 
he  had  never  gone  before),  and  contrary  to  his  invaria- 
ble custom,  entered  it  unasked  and  unannounced.  He 
saw  only  a  bare  earth  floor. 


190  PRISON  CAMPS. 

It  was  plainly  desirable  that  information  of  the  pro- 
jected movement  should  be  sent  to  our  army,  and  ac- 
cordingly a  message  to  that  effect  was  duly  forwarded 
to  our  lines  by  the  Confederate  authorities  in  the  follow- 
ing letter  : 

CAMP  FORD,  March  19,  1864, 


41  Letters  came  yesterday  for  some 

"  of*  us*,  and  it  will  please  J  -  to  know  that  hers  did 
"  not  escape  this  time.  About  a  dozen  of  us  have  had 
"  letters  containing  news  to  15th  ult.  There  were  two  from 
"mother,  and  one  dated  April  7th  from  C  -  for  me. 

"On    the    whole   we  will  not    complain  of   onr    luck.      I 

• 

"  am  even  willing  to  scatter  them  more  equally  amongst  the 
"  prisoners,  and  indeed  to  let  others  have  a  few  of  mine. 

"  "We  feel  certain  the  blockaders 

"at*  Sabine*  and  Galveston  keep  ours.  Maj.  Hyllested 
"assures  us,  he  sent  a  flag  off  with  them  at  least 
"three  times*  Let  F  -  look  ont*  for  them.  Some 
"  were  sent  in  September,  others  in  October,  November  and 
"December,  I  think,  but  will  not  be  sure  as  to  all  of 
"  these  months.  Those  which  go  ly  Shreveport  and  Red  Kiver 
"  seem  to  get  through  and  reach  their  destination  in 
"  some  cases. 

"  Stevenson  (as  I  wrote  to  you)  whom 

"we  left  sick  at  Iberia,  is  here  nearly  well.  Let 
".his  family  know  this." 

The  key  to  this  letter  had  been  previously  sent  out  by 
an  exchanged  prisoner.  It  early  became  apparent  that 
secret  correspondence  might  be  useful  to  us  and  of  ad- 
vantage to  the  government.  But  it  was  necessary  that 
it  should  be  both  secret  and  unsuspected.  An  ordinary 


ESCAPE.  191 

cipher  would  have  been  as  worthless  as  any  contraband 
letter.  My  first  idea  was  to  take  a  certain  word  of  every 
line  to  convey  the  hidden  message.  But  this  I  found 
engthened  the  letter  too  much,  and  I  therefore  added  to 
these  every  blotted  and  underscored  word.  If  a  person 
were  sure  that  his  correspondent  knew  the  key,  and  it 
he  were  allowed  to  coin  facts  and  write  nonsense, 
this  correspondence  would  be  easy  enough.  But  it  be- 
came somewhat  difficult  when  written  under  the  follow- 
ing conditions ;  viz.,  1.  To  write  briefly ;  2.  To  use  such 
words  and  subjects  as  a  prisoner  in  that  camp  would 
naturally  use ;  3.  To  state  in  the  body  of  the  letter  the 
personal  information  1  wished  to  communicate ;  for  1  was 
never  sure  my  key  had  reached  my  correspondent. 
Yet  a  very  little  practice  removed  much  of  the  difficulty, 
and  for  six  months,  every  letter  carried  out  its  twofold 
intelligence.  If  now  the  reader  will  collate  the  fifth 
word  of  every  line,  the  words  marked  thus*  and  those  in 
italics,  the  inner  meaning  of  the  foregoing  letter  will  be- 
come apparent. 

News  now  arrived  of  the  advance  of  our  army  up  the 
Red  River.  The  leaves  were  coming  out,  and  the  time 
was  slowly  approaching  when  we  expected  to  use  the 
tunnel.  The  officer  who  had  been  selected  to  direct  the 
work,  well  knew  that  when  this  time  should  arrive  it 
would  be  absolutely  impossible  to  prevent  the  whole  camp 
from  talking  of  it,  and  that  one  careless  word  might  ruin 
everything.  He  therefore  sought  to  conceal  the  real 
situation  of  the  affair,  by  overrating  the  real  distance  to 


192  PEISON   CAMPS. 

the  tree,  and  underrating  the  amount  of  work  actually 
performed.  Every  precaution  was  taken  to  divert  atten- 
tion from  the  progress  of  the  work ;  for  the  inspection  of 
the  shrewd  Colonel  betokened  that  some  foolish  word 
had  been  overheard  by  the  sentries,  or  else  that  we  had 
a  secret  spy  in  camp.  There  were  then  a  few  straggling 
privates  within  the  stockade,  and  suspicion  pointed  at 
two  of  these.  A  constant  watch  was  kept  upon  them  ; 
and  orders  were  given  that  all  conversation  on  the  subject 
should  cease. 

The  night  of  the  fifteenth  of  April  would  be  the  first 
01 1  which  the  moon  would  rise  late  enough  for  a  sufficient 
mmber  of  men  to  pass  out ;  and  on  the  fifteenth  of  April 
it  was  designed  that  the  tunnel  should  be  finished  and 
tl  e  sally  made.  On  the  ninth,  news  arrived  that  a  great 
b:  -ttle  had  begun  at  Mansfield.  On  the  tenth,  rumors 
cf  me,  saying  that  the  Confederate  General  had  possessed 
si  fficient  courage  to  more  forward  and  strike  our  invad- 
in  y  army.  On  the  eleventh,  we  heard  that  he  had  struck 
it  in  detail,  routing  it  and  driving  it  back  toward  Alex- 
andria. On  the  thirteenth,  Colonel  Allen  received  orders 
to  prepare  for  four  thousand  new  prisoners.  On  the 
fifteenth,  the  stockade  was  moved  back  six  hundred  feet, 
and  our  unfortunate  tunnel  left  high  and  dry  in  the  mid- 
lie  of  this  new  enclosure. 


EXCHANGE.  193 


XI. 

EXCHANGE. 

The  work  upon  the  tunnel  was  interrupted  for  a  day 
by  an  event,  which  I  think  must  be  without  a  parallel 
in  any  other  prison-camp.  At  the  breaking  out  of  the 
rebellion,  Miss  Mollie  Moore  was  a  school  girl  of  six- 
teen. After  Galveston  was  re-taken  by  the  Con* 
federates,  the  "  Houston  Telegraph "  was  adorned  with 
several  heroic  ballads,  written  by  the  young  lady, 
whom  the  editor  sometimes  called  "  our  pet,"  and  some- 
times the  "  unrivalled  star  of  Texan  literature."  The 
42d  Massachusetts  had  been  quartered  in  a  warehouse 
on  the  wharf  of  Galveston,  and  had  passed  the  night 
previous  to  their  capture  in  fighting,  all  of  which  the 
ballad  described  thus : 

"  Beneath  the  Texan  groves  the  haughty  foemen  slept." 

The  literary  taste  of  a  simple,  half-educated  people  is 
never  very  high,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  this  child- 
ish composition  so  nicely  equalled  the  taste  of  its  readers, 
as  to  be  deemed  a  marvel  of  genius,  and  actuaMy  to  be 
published  with  General  Magruder's  official  report.  Miss 
Mollie  became  the  literary  genius  of  Texas,  and  her 
effusions  were  poured  forth  through  the  "  Houston 
Telegraph"  and  the  "Tyler  Keporter"  and  the  "Crocket 

9 


194:  PRISON   CAMPS. 

Quid  E"unc  "  in  most  lavish  streams.  This  strong  incen- 
tive to  write,  and  these  ready  opportunities  to  publish 
were  not  altogether  abused  by  the  young  authoress, 
who'  rapidly  improved.  Judging  her  by  the  other  poems 
that  adorned  those  papers,  she  indeed  appeared  to  be 
the  "unrivalled  star  of  Texan  literature."  I  am  for- 
tunate in  being  able  to  introduce  her  toNorthern  readers 
by  an  extract  from : 

AN    INVITATION 

TO   MISS   LIZZIE   IRVINE,    OF   TYLER. 

The  autumn  sunset's  fairy  dyes 
Have  faded  from  the  bending  skies; 
Grey  twilight  (she  with  down-cast  eyes 
And  trailing  garments)  passeth  by ; 
And  thro'  the  cloud-rifts  shine  the  stars, 
As  sunbeams  burst  thro'  prison  bars  ; 
And  on  the  soft  wind,  faintly  heard, 
The  warbling  of  some  twilight  bird 
Comes  floating  sylph-like,  clad  with  power, 
To  whisper,  "  This  is  love's  own  hour  1" 

***** 
'Tis  autumn — and  with  summer  fell 
The  climbing  vines  of  Sylvan  Dell ; 
Our  flowers  too  withered  when  the  pall 
Crept  over  summer ;  and  the  fall 
Of  dry  leaves,  eddying  thro'  the  air, 
Has  left  the  tall  trees  brown  and  bare  : 
And  more — at  winter's  high  behest, 
The  crisp  fern  waves  a  tattered  crest 
Above  the  stream,  whose  crystal  pride 
The  river-screen  was  wont  to  hide. 


EXCHANGE.  195 

But  think  not  all  are  faithless !  no, 
Not  all  doth  Summer  yield  her  foe, 
Tho'  Winter  grasp  each  flower  and  vine- 
He  cannot  claim  the  fadeless  pine; 
And  high  upon  our  rough  hill-steeps, 
His  watch  the  crested  holly  keeps. 
Ah  would  that  Love  could  thus  defy 
The  storms  that  sweep  our  wintry  sky ! 

***** 
Come  wander  with  me  where  the  hill 
Slopes  downward  to  the  waters  still, 
"Where  bright  among  the  curling  vines 
The  sevres  berry  scarlet  shines. 
And  on  yon  brown  hill's  bosky  side, 
"Where  flames  the  sumach's  crimson  pride, 

The  steeps  and  tangled  thickets  glow 
*-«~j  * 

With  rude  persimmons  golden  show ; 

And  down  the  dell,  whero  daylight's  beams 
Make  golden  pathways  by  the  streams, 
"Where  whispering  winds  are  never  mute, 
The  hawthorn  hangs  her  ebon  fruit. 

It  seems  impossible  that  a  young  lady  able  to  write 
such  pleasing  verse,  could  descend  to  this : 

Let  our  flag  kiss  the  breeze !  let  it  float  o'er  the  field ! 
Not  a  heart  will  grow  faint,  not  a  bay'net  will  yield. 

Chorus — It  shall  never  be  lowered,  the  black  flag  we  bear, 
It  shall  never,  never,  never,  no  never,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

Yet  before  our  departure,  the  young  authoress, 
abandoning  her  barbarous  teachings,  rose  in  style  and 
sentiment  from  "The  Black  Flag"  (as  she  called  her 
inflated  nonsense)  to  a  little  poem,  of  which  the  follow- 
ing stanzas  are,  perhaps,  imperfectly  repeated  : 


196  PRISON   CAMPS. 

Morn  dawned  upon  the  contest— the  hugle  blast 
Wound  out  its  shrilly  summons,  and  the  word 
Leaped  down  the  lines,  and  fiery  hearts  beat  fast ; 
Two  gallant  armies  bared  the  glittering  sword, 
And  fearless  breasted  battle's  bitter  waves, 
And  eager  thousands  sought  their  nameless  graves 
By  the  river  of  death. 


A  single  thought  swept  o'er  him,  and  his  eye 
Grew  troubled  for  one  moment — then  'twas  o'er. 
His  fair  young  wife — his  dark-eyed  babe,  to  die 
Far  from  them !     The  cannon's  lordly  roar 
Broke  on  his  ear— his  eye  caught  back  its  pride — 
His  lax  hand  grasped  the  glittering  sword — he  died 
By  the  river  of  death.  , 

He  died,  and  night  with  clouded  skies  looked  down 
Upon  his  burial !     The  torch-light  red 
Glared  fitfully  about ;  they  gathered  round — 
His  comrades,  sadly  silent,  near  the  dead. 
They  wrapped  him  in  his  blanket — song  and  prayer 
Awoke  the  stillness  as  they  laid  him  there, 
By  the  river  of  death. 

"  Buried  upon  the  field ! "    'Tis  meet ;  for  why 
Should  warriors  rest  where  peaceful  churchyards  are  ? 
Why  should  they  sleep  where  battle's  trumpet  cry 
Was  never  heard  ?  nor  breath  of  glorious  war  ? 
No  I  on  their  field  of  glory — on  the  plain 
Where  Death's  grand  chorus  hushed  the  noble  slain — 
There  let  them  lie ! 


EXCHANGE.  197 

There  was  a  young  lieutenant  among  the  prisoners 
given  to  collecting  all  sorts  of  scraps  and  curiosities,  and 
so  he  addressed  a  note  to  Miss  Mollie,  begging  for  her 
autograph  and  copies  of  any  poems  she  might  be  able  to 
spare.  Within  a  reasonable  time  there  came  a  copy  of 
the  "  Invitation "  and  an  autograph  of  the  "  Black 
Flag,"  and  a  reproachful  letter  to  Lieutenant  Pearson. 
There  was  also  a  letter  to  Colonel  Allen,  not  intended 
for  Yankee  reading.  It  expressed  a  little  repentance  for 
writing  so  cruelly  to  an  unfortunate  prisoner — avowed 
a  wish  to  treat  even  invaders  with  politeness,  and  wound 
up  with  the  Eve-like  conclusion,  "But  I  could  not 
resist  the  temptation.  Yours  truly,  MOLLIE  E.  MOORE." 

One  or  two  other  causes  at  the  same  time  combined 
to  induce  Miss  Mollie  to  visit  Camp  Ford,  and  one  lucky 
morning  Mrs.  Allen  escorted  her  in.  She  was  one  of 
those  girls  that  men  are  a  little  afraid  of,  and  that 
other  girls  do  not  like.  She  had  a  slender  figure,  a  thin 
face,  light  hair,  light  blue,  dreamy  eyes,  and  she  was 
accompanied  by  the  object  of  the  "Invitation."  There 
was  not  much  of  the  poetess  in  her  bearing  —  practical, 
very  neatly  dressed,  a  ready  talker,  and  quite  sharp  at 
repartee.  Yet  when  Colonel  Burrill  was  presented  to 
her  as  one  of  the  "  haughty  foemen,"  she  colored, 
and  showed  a  little  pretty  embarrassment.  The  friend 
was  her  exact  opposite,  with  dark  hair,  dark  eyes,  very 
shy  and  silent  and  reserved,  and  much  the  prettiest 
Texan  it  was  ever  my  luck  to  see. 

About  the  same  time  a  second  notable  incident  occur- 


198  PRISON   CAMPS. 

red,  being  no  less  than  a  literary  contest  between  prison- 
ers and  the  outside  world.  One  of  our  number  had 
received  some  attention  from  the  Houston  editor,  in 
return  for  which  he  sent  him  a  few  verses,  entitled, 
"  Pax  Yobiscum."  These  lines  so  exactly  accorded  with 
the  yearning  for  peace,  that  they  awakened  great  in- 
terest, and  after  a  while  were  re-published,  with  the  edi- 
torial avowal  that  they  were  written  by  a  Yankee  pri- 
soner. Another  literary  lady,  middle-aged,  married,  and 
rather  stout  (so  I  was  informed),  but  who  called  herself 
by  the  infantile  name  of  "  Maggie  of  Marshall,"  there- 
upon came  out  with  a  poem,  addressed  to  "  the  noble 
prisoner,"  in  which  she  styled  him,  "  The  northern  by 
birth  but  the  southern  in  soul,"  and  urged  him  to  come 
straight  over  and  fight  on  their  side.  The  "  noble 
prisoner "  had  no  earthly  intention  of  deserting,  so  he 
wrote  a  second  poem  for  the  "  Tyler  Reporter,"  in  which 
he  defined  his  position.  "When  Mistress  Maggie  of  Mar- 
shall found  that  her  blandishments  were  all  thrown 
away,  she  became  deeply  indignant,  and  immediately 
wrote  her  second  poem  for  the  "  Reporter,"  wherein  the 
"  noble  prisoner  "  was  turned  into  a  puritan  and  a  mur- 
derer and  a  son  of  Cain,  and  finally  turned  adrift  with 
the  contemptuous  pity : 

"  Behold  this  Ephraim  to  his  idols  joined — 
Let  him  alone." 

I  cannot  speak  very  explicitly  of  our  last  three  months. 
In  telling  this  story,  I  have  tried  to  picture  only  the 


EXCHANGE.  199 

better  side  of  everything,  and  to  make  it  imprisonment 
with  the  unpleasant  parts  left  out.  The  story  is  "  the 
truth,"  but  not  "  the  whole  truth,"  and  does  not  deny  or 
conflict  with  the  narratives  of  others.  A  sense  of  honor 
forbids  that  the  better  actions  of  our  late  enemies  should 
be  hidden,  or  that  the  good  and  the  bad  should  be  con- 
demned together.  Yet  I  may  as  well  add  here,  for  the 
benefit  of  certain  persons,  that  the  respect  yielded  to  a 
Southern  soldier  standing  by  his  State,  and  heroically 
fighting  for  that  false  belief  in  which  he  was  bred, 
does  not  extend  to  those  cowards  who,  "  sympathizing 
with  the  South,"  have  skulked  through  the  war  behind 
the  generous  protection  of  the  United  States. 

The  Red  River  prisoners  arrived,  and  were  followed 
by  numbers  from  Arkansas.  Our  soldiers  and  sailors  of 
Camp  Groce,  who,  four  months  before,  left  us  hopefully 
sure  of  their  release,  came  back — I  need  not  say  how 
sad  and  disappointed.  Our  number  swelled  from  a 
hundred  officers,  to  forty-seven  hundred  and  twenty-five, 
officers,  soldiers  and  sailors.  Then  followed  a  quarter  of 
a  year  of  loathsome  wretchedness,  beside  which,  the 
squalor  and  vice  of  agreat  city's  worst  haunts  appeared — 
and  still  appear,  too  bright  and  pure  to  yield  a  com- 
parison. 

The  healthy  character  of  our  camp  changed  in  a  single 
week.  Disease  and  death  followed  each  other  quickly 
in.  The  friendless  sick  lay  shelterless  on  the  ground 
around  us,  the  sun  scorching  and  blighting  them  by 
day,  and  the  cold  Texan  night-wind  smiting  them  by 


200  PRISON  CAMPS. 

night.  "We  walked  over  the  dying  and  the  dead,  when- 
ever we  moved,  and  saw  and  heard  their  miseries  through 
every  hour.  Beside  the  gate  stood  a  pile  of  coffins,  re- 
minding all  who  went  out  and  came  in,  of  their  proba- 
ble impending  fate.  The  vice  and  lawlessness  that  live 
in  the  vile  haunts  of  cities  sprang  up  and  flourished  here. 
The  Confederate  troops  (idle  after  their  victories  on  the 
Red  River)  came  back  to  scour  the  country  for  deserters  ; 
and  our  unhappy  conscript  friends  whispered  that 
escape  was  hopeless  now,  and  sought  to  comfort  us  by 
lamenting  that  no  dim  prospect  of  exchange  cheered 
them.  Our  kind  friends,  the  Aliens,  had  gone,  and  the 
English  Lieutenant-Colonel,  who  commanded,  treated  a 
few  with  surly  civility,  but  the  great  mass  with  brutal 
cruelty.  The  horrors  of  these  great  prison-camps  are  not 
yet  told — will  never  be. 

It  is  darkest  before  the  dawn.  "We  sat  at  dinner,  one 
day,  and  a  sailor,  whose  nick-name  was  Wax,  came  to 
the  door,  and  said  to  his  Captain,  "The  paroling  officer, 
sir,  who  was  here  three  months  ago,  has  come  back,  and 
the  guards  say,  there  are  some  of  us  to  be  exchanged." 
The  Captain  thanked  the  man,  and  we  went  on  with  our 
dinner.  "  I  suppose,"  some  one  remarked,  "  that  if  ex- 
change ever  does  come,  the  news  will  come  through 
"Wax;"  and  then  we  dropped  the  subject;  for  a  hundred 
times  just  such  stories  had  been  told,  and  a  hundred 
times  they  had  proved  false.  Captain  Dillingham 
finished  his  dinner,  and  said  he  would  go  out  and  see 
that  officer ;  perhaps  the  fellow  had  brought  us  some  let- 


EXCHANGE.  201 

ters.  The  Captain  came  back  in  a  few  minutes,  and 
said,  as  cheerily  as  though  he  were  telling  good  news  for 
himself,  "  You  are  to  go,  and  I  am  to  stay — none 
of  us  navy  fellows  to  be  exchanged."  Our  rose  had  its 
thorn. 

Three  days  of  anxious  waiting  passed,  and  we  bade 
our  naval  friends  farewell.  Some  of  them  had  been 
tried  then  six  months  longer  than  we  had  been.  The 
trial  of  all  went  on  for  seven  months  more.  They  suf- 
fered, again  and  again,  the  sorest  pain  that  can  be 
inflicted  on  prisoners  of  war — the  sight  of  those  march- 
ing out  who  were  captured  long  subsequent  to  themselves, 
and  the  fear  that  the  injustice  comes  from  the  neglect 
of  their  own  government.  There  was  thrown  upon  them 
also  a  strong  temptation ;  for  there  were  desertions,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  from  the  army.  The  deserters  were  chiefly 
foreign  born,  but  not  all.  The  first,  indeed,  was  a  young 
man  in  the  2d  Rhode  Island  Cavalry,  a  native  of  another 
!N~ew  England  State.  Yet  these  sailors  never  faltered. 
If  men  who  have  fought  bravely  in  battle,  and  who  have 
been  faithful  through  suffering,  ever  deserved  to  be  wel- 
comed home  with  honors  and  ovations,  then  did  these 
sailors  of  the  "Morning  Light,"  "Clifton,"  and 
"  Sachem." 

One  thousand  of  us  marched  out  of  the  crowded  camp, 
"We  inhaled  long  breaths  of  the  pure  untainted  air,  yet 
dared  not  believe  that  this  would  end  in  exchange.  It 
was  the  sixth  time  that  some  had  passed  over  the  same 
road,  and  we  might  well  be  incredulous.  There  was 


202  PRISON   CAMPS. 

weary  marching  over  burning  sand,  and  the  long-con 
fined  men  grew  weak  and  foot-sore,  before  they  had 
marched  an  hour.  The  Confederate  officers  acted  kindly, 
out  the  prisoners  had  seen  chances  of  exchange  lost  by 
a  single  day's  delay,  and  they  dragged  themselves  for- 
ward with  a  rigor  that  would  have  been  cruelty  had 
it  been  enforced  on  them.  The  white  sand  glaring  under 
their  feet,  and  the  burning  sun  beating  down  through  the 
breathless  air,  made  a  fiery  ordeal.  Shoeless  men,  with 
feet  seared  and  blistered  so  that  the  hot  sand  felt  like 
coals  of  fire,  tottered  along,  not  faster  than  a  mile  an 
hour,  yet  moving  steadily.  A  few  wagons,  pressed  from 
the  harvest-fields,  were  covered  with  the  sick  and  dying, 
and  thus  appearing,  on  the  fifth  day,  we  marched  through 
the  streets  of  Shreveport. 

Here  three  days  of  insupportable  longness  awaited  us ; 
for  Shreveport  had  been  the  dam  that  had  always 
stopped  prisoners  and  'turned  them  back.  On  the  fourth 
morning  we  marched  on  board  of  the  steamboats  that 
were  to  carry  us  down  the  Red  River ;  and  then,  when 
Shreveport"  was  fairly  behind  us,  we  breathed  freer,  and 
for  the  first  time  allowed  ourselves  to  hope.  At  Alex- 
andria we  were  stopped  and  landed,  and  made  to  endure 
two  other  days  of  suspense,  but  at  last  we  re-embarked 
for  the  point  of  exchange. 

The  mouth  of  Red  River  was  the  place  where  our  flag- 
of-truce  boat  was  to  meet  us.  "We  reached  it  before 
sunrise,  and  saw  again  the  muddy  current  of  the  Missis- 
sippi. No  flag-of- truce  boat  was  in  sight.  But  we  saw 


EXCHANGE.  203 

two  gun-boats  that  sentinelled  the  river,  and  our  eyes 
rested  on  the  flag  that  streamed  over  their  decks,  and 
silently  proclaimed  to  us  the  still  sovereign  power  of  the 
United  States.  A  shot  from  the  gun-boats  bade  us  stop. 
A  small  boat  was  lowered ;  we  saw  its  crew  enter  it,  and 
an  officer  come  over  the  side ;  and  then  it  pulled  toward 
us.  The  officer  inquired  the  object  of  the  Confederate 
flag-of-truce,  and  told  us  the  disheartening  fact  that  he 
had  heard  nothing  of  this  exchange.  Then  followed 
nine  hours,  that  seemed  as  though  they  would  never 
move  away.  A  crowd  of  prisoners  stood  on  the  upper 
deck,  their  eyes  strained  on  the  river.  The  morning 
passed,  the  afternoon  began,  and  still  nothing  could  be 
seen.  At  two  o'clock,  a  little  puff  of  black  smoke 
appeared  far  down  the  Mississippi,  and  a  murmur  ran 
through  the  crowd.  An  hour  crawled  away,  and  a  large, 
white  steamer  pushed  around  a  headland  of  the  river, 
and  came  rapidly  up  against  the  muddy  current.  The 
strained  eyes  thought  they  saw  a  white  flag,  but  it  was 
hard  to  distinguish  it  on  the  white  back-ground  of  the 
boat.  Suddenly  the  steamer  turned  and  ran  in  to  the 
bank  below  us — the  white  flag  streamed  out  plainly  in 
view,  and  the  decks  were  covered  with  Confederate 
prisoners. 


It  was  on  the  last  day  of  thirteen  months  of  captivity 
that  I  re-entered  our  lines.  All  that  I  had  seen  and 
learnt  was  contained  in  about  thirty  days.  Could  these 


204:  PRISON  CAMPS. 

thirty  days  have  been  brought  together,  they  would 
have  formed  an  interesting  and  instructive  month.  But 
beside  this  one  were  twelve  other  months,  that  were  a 
dreary,  idle  waste.  They  formed  a  year  that  had 
brought  no  pleasure,  profit  or  instruction.  Some  who 
entered  it  young,  came  out  with  broken  health  and 
shortened  lives ;  some  who  entered  it  in  middle  age, 
came  out  with  grey  hair,  impaired  memory,  and  the  de- 
crepitude of  premature  old  age.  It  was  a  year  that  had 
taken  much  from  us  and  given  to  us  little  in  return.  A 
year  of  ever-disappointed  hopes,  of  barren  promises,  of  a 
blank  and  dreary  retrospect.  Contemplating  it,  we 
might  almost  reverse  the  meaning  of  our  gently-chiding 
poet  : 

"  Eich  gift  of  God !  ,  A  year  of  time ! 
"What  pomp  of  rise  and  shut  of  day — 
"What  hues  wherewith  our  northern  clime 
Makes  autumn's  drooping  woodlands  gayi— 
"What  airs  outblown  from  ferny  dells, 
And  clover  bloom,  and  sweet-brier  smells — 
What  songs  of  brooks  and  birds— what  fruits  and  flowers, 
Green  woods  and  moon-lit  snows  have  in  its  round  been  ours," 


2084  87 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 

To  renew  by  phone,  call  429-2756 

Books  not  returned  or  renewed  within  14  days 

after  due  date  are  subject  to  billing. 


Series  2373 


3  2106  00862  5219 


